


A King's Burden

by HoneyBird



Series: Adventure Boyfriends AU (Legend of Zelda) [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure Boyfriends AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, zelda/sheik is nonbinary and no one can stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyBird/pseuds/HoneyBird
Summary: Ganondorf Halim Dragmire is a young man doomed to greatness; a gifted enchanter, a strong warrior, a dedicated rising King of the Gerudo. He is also Link's dearest friend, and the love of his life.However, when war looms over Hyrule, its tribes are thrown into chaos and old tensions threaten to devour all in their path. It may take new friends, and old courage, to quell the calamity.(An AU about adventuring, sometime long past Twilight Princess and long before Breath of the Wild, and somewhat aside from the series altogether. )





	1. An Upbeat Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> "yeah no I'll get to this eventually and I'll post when its done" I say at my draft folder for years, drawing this AU and forgetting it for months at a time  
> "A COWARD AND A LIAR" my draft folder calls back to me, its calls falling on absent ears until I got too annoyed looking at the bits and pieces so here we go.
> 
> no beta we die like men

“Having trouble?” 

Halim glowered into the reflection he saw in the polished golden shield propped in his lap. Even in the dim blue of the early morning hours, Nabooru’s grin was not unlike a hyena that relished in the struggling of prey caught under its paw. With a jerk, Halim finally freed his comb from his half-formed braids and gave a rough grunt, attempting to remain at least vaguely dignified as his mass of fiery hair puffed and splayed outward from his head.

“Shouldn’t you be packing?” It wasn’t a question, but the unruly captain had already practically slithered forward and down onto her knees behind him, her sharp amusement close over his shoulder as she plucked the comb from his hand. 

“Already finished,” She chuckled, “We aim to get there  _ this _ week, you know, I may as well make sure you’re on track.” 

“I am  _ early _ .”

“I am _ready_ , which means you are late.” 

He ignored how much his indignant snort and the frown framed by his disastrous hair made him seem childish. In any other situation Halim would straighten his back and broaden his shoulders, assert his authority as any unprecedentedly young Chief needed to in the face of insubordination. In any other situation a soldier, impressively young captain or no, would never cackle or slither in the presence of her sovereign. However, Nabooru had never been one to read a room when she wished to cackle. In the privacy of his tent, protected by the cloaking darkness of the waning night, Halim could let his cousin insist on coddling him for a little while. 

“You could at least stop laughing.” 

“I will not.” She tossed her own crimson braid over her shoulder and was unabated in her work, long fingers twisting dexterously through thick sections of his hair, “You’re always so frazzled when we head his way--”

“Nonsense. I’m perfectly fine.” 

“You can never braid your hair properly once we’re 20 miles out. I could build borders by your tells, you know.” 

With a sputter, Halim could only cross his arms over his chest and demand a change of subject. “Is Rova awake?”

“Before me. No doubt kicking any stragglers to their feet by now.” Nabooru lilted easily. “Mark me, that hag never sleeps at all - look, finished!” 

Upon refocusing on his reflection, it was a relief to find he looked presentable. With his braids in order - traditionally intricate, but not decorated - his russet brown face was starkly framed, the strength of his jaw highlighted and his golden eyes piercing. His earrings were the only ornamentation he wore, his travel clothes focused on simplicity and functionality, but his broad shoulders and startling eyes left him not easily ignored. Without mistake, he was his people’s rising king. 

A rising king who flushed ever so slightly, brows furrowed, and peeked back at his cousin with a quiet, “Thank you.” 

Nabooru laughed, and together they rose to exit and join their companions. 

When Nabooru carried on uproariously, among the other soldiers in the caravan, Halim didn’t hear it. His focus remained on the journey forward into the hint of the rising sun, a soft and private smile on his lips.

_____________

_ Hoofbeats, but not like when he was herding sheep.  _

_ Hundreds - thousands of them. Darkness and dusty haze made it near impossible to see, but the sounds were clear in their cacophony. Clashing of metal, thundering steeds, screams, and the smell-- _

_ The dirt and smoke and blood caught in his throat, leaving him stumbling as he coughed. His horse was nowhere in sight, his friends -- _

_ “Look out, Link!” A chiming voice rang in his ear, close enough to get above his coughing.  _

_ When he looked up, only a stallion carved of shadow loomed above him, saddled by a towering figure. A sharp grin glinted like the cursed blade the being of darkness held, a cruel laugh as the weapon was brought down slicing through the haze -- _

The start Link woke with sent him to the ground, toppling out of his hammock and face-first into the old rug of the loft. He sputtered, hacking phantom dust and ash from his lungs, as he tried to right himself. With a jolt, he glanced to his surroundings. Quiet house, the first hint of light touching the edges of the sky - he was home, his uncle had left to work already, and it was high time for him to follow. 

No dark battlefield, no looming figures. 

Link ran his hands through his silvery hair and dragged himself to his feet. He stumbled into his clothes, dunked his head in the porch’s rain barrel on his way out, and wrestled his brain to task as he made his way to the barn. There was livestock to herd, equipment repairs to make, crops to tend, errands to run - there was neither time nor point to dwell on dreams, now. 

Besides, with the few farms and outpost carefully placed along the river, amidst the forest, under the watchful gaze of the old spirits’ mountain, battles of that kind were the furthest thing from home. His uncle, the old knight with hands worn from decades of work, scarlet eyes dulled from too many visions of valor ended in blood, wouldn’t have settled here otherwise. 

It was mid-day before he looked up from work. From where he was, under the plough he was repairing, his light was blocked out by a barrel-chested older man. 

“Anju was by earlier, chasing chickens. Said her sister went to the river, saw a caravan moving North towards the bridge.” Maz Koshia was not a man of padded conversation, but nodded in greeting to his nephew.  “A caravan?” Link blinked, tilting his head from where he lay in the dirt of the barn. “From where? She see a symbol?” 

"Didn’t say. Reckon it’ll be in by evening, if it’s headed this way.” He nodded towards the plough, “Take in the sheep, when you’re done with that.” 

A blink later and Uncle Maz was halfway out of the barn, a pack of seed slung over his shoulder. 

Link would drop a wrench on his head, miss a lasso toss around one of the rams, and nearly fall face-first into the trough by the time he managed to stop letting his mind wander too far to the caravan. Or at least, fancy he had stopped. The idea of that was far more difficult to ignore than a dream.

Later it only took a far-off howl from a sheep dog and the distant chorus of Gerudo road song to send him barreling across the pasture, the hay bale he’d been tying forgotten. A jump over the fence sent him running down the road, peering desperately through the trees as he advanced, and just turning the fork -

“TILAGTZI!  _ DAYA _ !” He was slightly out of breath from his dash, but didn’t let that stop him from calling out. “HALIM!” 

Some may have expected soldiers to startle upon hearing such shouts, or seeing a frazzled farmhand barrel through their ranks towards the front of the caravan. Instead, they found themselves making way for their king shouting similarly and running to meet him. 

The two crashed into each other in a truly sickening display of sweetness, the farmhand quickly taken up into the Gerudo king’s arms in a swirl of kisses and endearments. “ _ Silly sun-beetle _ ” and “ _ Darling moonlight _ ” were common as air, and within the circle of their embrace the young lovers had their own world once again. 

Nabooru rolled her eyes from where she held the reigns of the front wagon, now halted in a small crowd of soldiers and giant boar due to the scene before them in the road. 

“Yes, yes - we’re all very happy,” She said above the chittering and wolf-whistles of a few of the others, a wry smile sneaking to her face. “But if his majesty will STEP TO THE LEFT, we can move on and tend to our supplies.” 

Link was left panting, between his sprint and the warm kisses that had been at its end, but still managed to huff a quiet laugh. Taking his lover’s hands in his own, he pulled Halim along with him to the tree line. With a wave from their king the caravan continued, teasing comments and laughter aside, leaving Halim to cradle Link’s head in his hands and press his forehead gently against his own. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in what felt like a millennia, even if it had only been a few months. 

“Forgive me, I’ve been gone too long.” Halim murmured. Link gave a contented hum in reply, resting his hands on Halim’s chest and letting his eyes fall closed.

“I missed you.”

“Terribly.” 

The two lingered there together for some time before following after the caravan, hand in hand. The Gerudo would be welcome to set up their camps in the pastures, Link and his uncle would make stew in the largest pot they owned; Uncle Maz would argue with Rova over politics late into the night, and the two young lovers would steal away into the barn loft the first opportunity they had. Such was the way of these things, and Link was content. 

The Gerudo caravan’s first night had been one of priorities, as usual. Equipment had been repaired, baths had been had in the stream, reconfigurations had been done to store new supplies, and bedrolls unpacked and occupied as soon as possible by the tired travelers. They’d only be staying a few days before moving on, Link had been told, aiming to make stops in Mabe Village and the Central Exchange to trade. Normal rounds, but such journeys always took supplies and organization. 

Halim had stepped away from the camp when others began to hunker down to sleep, and tracked down Link taking baskets of vegetables out of the cellar. Rova had already come to the house to catch up with Maz, and as Halim and Link sorted produce and shut down the farm for the night they could hear the tense conversations evolve from friendly banter in the kitchen. 

Maz and Rova were longtime allies. Their friendship had followed Maz from his days in armor to his time in his tribal caravan, all the way to the farm he’d finally claimed as a home turf. However, their years and parallel days of battle fostered not only camaraderie, but firm convictions that were not always shared. At times it was enough to drive their young companions from the room, or out of the house entirely - as seemed the case now. 

“It seems Rova and your uncle are at it again…” Halim commented from where they stood on the porch, as another mighty roar for action came from inside.  
Not that Link could bring himself to mind much. He trusted that the veterans would smooth any rough arguments out by morning. In the meantime, he took advantage of any moment he could to wander the fields with Halim, joking and chatting under the watchful stars, away in a world of their own. 

“It’s funny,” Link mused fondly, when they eventually circled back around towards the house when the moon was high overhead. “I’m surprised you’re not in there too, arguing politics. You’d think a king would be.” 

“Kings don’t argue,” Halim replied firmly, leaving his previous joking tone all too quickly. “They decide.”

It was enough to take Link aback, even if his soft smile stayed, pausing to look over to him.

“Well--” Halim blushed the instant Link paused, as if he’d lost himself in an embarrassing thought, “That is--”

Link patted his arm, reassuring in his fondness. “I understand. You’re a good man, you’ll be a good king.”

Halim returned his smile with a soft, “Thank you.” but went quiet for a long while afterwards. He straightened his spine and carefully set his shoulders, looking even stronger and more stately than he usually did; such was his habit, when he was anxious. There was no grinding teeth or wringing hands, only a firm stance that would tell anyone else he was a king always sure of his mind. 

It made Link’s heart ache a little, knowing how Halim’s mind must be buzzing. 

“I have a question.” 

Link remained warm and patient, waiting for Halim to get his thoughts together and look at him. Reliably, he did; turning on his heel to cup Link’s face in his palms, as if he was worried he would lose either his own resolve or Link’s attention. 

“After our business in Hyrule is finished,” He began, forcing down any wavering his voice may have held as best he could, though in the end he stammered, “I was thinking - I’m hoping-- that you might… Consider me.”

“I do, sun-beetle.” Link smiled, bemused, leaning a little into his touch. 

Halim flushed, “I mean - I would like to ask you to be at my side.”

“Am I not?” 

“I mean - return home with me and - stay. With me. Marry me. Please.” 

Link’s bemused smile gave way to stunned silence, and Halim seemed ready to burst with embarrassment. He could nearly hear the king’s heart hammering in his chest. 

“You want me to marry you?” Link said, after what felt like an eternity. 

“If - If you want. Please.” 

The resolve Halim had built up seemed to crumble, and he began to move away. Link’s hands chased him though, holding his biceps while Link pushed up on his toes to kiss him. Sweet, slow kisses punctuated with murmurs of yes, of course and I love you melted the stress Halim felt away, leaving him with nothing but wrapping his lover in his arms. 

This time when Link slept, he’d dream of the spectacle of the desert, soft silks and ripe fruit. The early morning would find him in the barn loft on a pallet, pressed comfortably into the warmth of his fiance. He’d have a pleasant kind of ache, adoring marks peppering the warm brown skin under his shirt, and help with chores once he woke.


	2. Downhill From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect, Link should have anticipated everything going downhill the way it did.

“Something’s off, this time.” Uncle Maz grunted. “Too many soldiers.”

“All of the Gerudo are trained soldiers,” Link didn’t bother to look up from the pot he was stirring, “it’s only a trade caravan.”  
“There are canons, in the back wagon.”  
The bottom of the pot scorched slightly, in the time the pair stared at one another. Link’s already-soft voice dropped to a whisper, his brow furrowing over crimson eyes.  
“That would be foolish. Uncle, perhaps you saw a rolled-up carpet for--”  
“Don’t mock me, boy,” Maz’s volume matched Link’s, but his tone was grave and edged in danger, “I’ve seen enough of them to know.”

Link did not question the old veteran further, but he chanced a look out the kitchen window, towards the pasture where the caravan resided, its desert silks and gold-threaded banners mingling with the sunset. Its occupants were dancing around the fires they’d built, turning food on spits as they chatted, roughhousing and singing where they reposed. The jovial Gerudo had long histories of traveling alongside the Sheikah, freely trading within one another’s settlements - Link had only seen them training, only seen them raise a hand or a weapon to defend themselves or a companion. The Gerudo were friends, there was never any kind of threat among them.

_Canons._

Surely Halim hadn’t ordered them to pack such things. Not for trading, not to travel to the central region of Hyrule. If the Hylian soldiers saw them--

“ _Link!_ ” Uncle Maz hissed, startling him back to attention as the stew began to boil over.

Link needed to see them for himself.

He waited carefully, schooling his gaze away from the wagons and keeping his mood as jovial as he could until nightfall. Normally the Gerudo kept shifts on watch when they made camp, but in Maz Koshia’s pastures no need for them had ever existed. Still, some of the travelers slept nearby enough that Link had to tiptoe around them, not daring to breathe more than absolutely necessary while he did. Halim had been left back at the house, having fallen asleep in the upstairs hammock before Link wriggled from his arms. If he worked quickly, Link would answer his question and be back again before his lover even stirred.

He got his answer, his heart sinking as he looked.

There they were.

Even in the darkness of the night, the glint off their obsidian hulls was clear. The back wagon was armed with small cannons, filled with gunpowder and spare armor and weaponry of all sorts. Link’s stomach churned, where he stood peeking past the canvas covering.

There was no question - the Gerudo were either looking for a weapons trade, or they were looking for a fight.

A wall of muscle met him when he turned to leave. Halim loomed above him in the night, though under the stars his worried face was quite visible. Without a word Link skirted around him, then booked it to the barn away from the sleeping camp and the quiet house. His lover would follow, shutting the door behind them when they reached their furtive destination. Link paced over the hay-covered ground for some time, wringing his hands or tugging at stray pieces of hair.

“Moonlight…” Halim attempted softly, wary as one may be around a stressed animal.

Link could only shake his head. When he finally stopped to look at his lover, his face was haunted.

“You’re not going to the Exchange, are you.” Link spoke quietly, carefully, “Not even to Mabe Village.”

Halim met his gaze gravely, his jaw working. “No.”

“You’re going to Castletown.”

When Halim reached for him, Link took a half step back,“Link, there has to be--”

“-- I can’t believe you would lie about--”  
“-- If there’s going to be any--”  
“-- sisters less than fifteen--”  
“-- The laws need to--”  
“-- those soldiers will--!”

“ _LISTEN TO ME_.” Halim’s roar broke the hushed argument, taking Link’s hand and pulling him close, reclaiming the distance Link had put between them and more.

“I don’t want to hear about your suicide mission!” Link went when pulled, but glared up at his lover. Halim’s temper could be a bonfire, but he had never posed any danger to him - he met it head on, firm and growling through his teeth.

The glare pointed their position to Halim, and after a moment led the Gerudo King to blink. He retracted his hand quickly and stepped back himself, half-turning away from Link’s steady gaze in a mixture of anger and embarrassed frustration.

Eventually he let out a huff not unlike an irritated boar, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before meeting Link’s eyes again. “Will you walk with me?”

This time Link reached out for his hand, and the two kept to the fence line in their familiar path.

It had been years since the desert tribes had been met with in Hyrule. A new monarchal decree would be passed down and the sovereign chiefs would request a summit only to be ignored, trade deals and treaties were halted in red tape, disaster relief or other aid were never pursued to fruition. Such had been the way of things.

However, there had been a fair share of rough years in recent decades - and after generations of different brands of political neglect or other hassle, the Gerudo were tired. It had been decided it was time to force the powers of Hyrule to listen, one way or another, with the support of the desert tribes and any sympathetic numbers. The Sheikah who’d made their home in the mesas had supplied a good amount of the more intricate weaponry. The moblins and lizalfos, also, seemed eager to have common ground with the others in their displeasure. The central regions needed to be jolted into change - the caravan would set out before first light to tend to that.

  
Link listened to Halim’s explanation, watched the crease in his brow and the darkening of his expression as he spoke. Where Link hugged his arms to himself, Halim straightened. Where Link took glances to the house, the camp, the forests, the spirits’ mountain over the treetops, Halim trained his gaze forward.

By the time they had circled back around again to the barn Link had walked off much of his nerves, and even past his posture Halim seemed slightly more at ease, if dour. He wandered over to take a seat on a crate, and drew Link into his lap.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Link murmured when Halim nuzzled into his neck, carding his fingers through loosely tied red locks.  
“Rova is confident.”

That being said, Link could only think of his nightmare. He dared not tell Halim now, but could nearly once again smell blood. “Please. Please, sun-beetle, don’t do something rash.”  
Halim answered the quiet plea with a soft grunt, and pressed Link a little closer. “I swear it.”

Eventually they would return to bed and cling to one another, in silence. At the barest hint of light the Gerudo would be off again; Link held Halim’s hand until they were well out of the property, and stood where they parted until long after he could no longer hear the desert sisters’ song.

__

“You could try not to look so down.” Nabooru punched Halim’s arm lightly, keeping in step with him along the side of the wagon train. “Think of it this way - it’s the last time you’ll have to leave him behind.”

That pulled Halim from his own wandering thoughts, drawing him to notice the frown on his face.

He nodded.  
The Gerudo King regained his stride, and kept it.

__

  
In retrospect, Link should have anticipated everything going downhill the way that it did.

There had always been rumors and horror stories about Hyrulean soldiers arresting random young men for petty reasons and sentencing them ‘community service’ in blood, or conscripting them out of their homes when the King and his council got fidgety.

When the first Gerudo caravan left everything had been fine. Then, another had come through in the middle of the next night, silent and steadily moving.

Then, another.

Then, another.

A hush had fallen over the village over the course of a week, and when the first Hylian patrol was spotted - just a couple of men, just winding through for an hour on their way to the Nima Plains - every young man was told the same thing.

“Don’t go out after sunset.”  
“Don’t loiter in town.”  
“Don’t go near the inn.”  
“If you see armor, go out the back way.”  
“Your horse is healthy - don’t let them see it. Don’t let them see how you ride.”

The same hush had carried over into the house. Uncle Maz and Link spent evenings in tense silence, listening for hoofbeats or the clanking of metal coming up the road. When in the village market there was only whispers, tense conversations behind closed doors and the exchange of letters, the circulation of maps. Maz had moved the trunk at the foot of his bed up into the barn loft - artifacts of his time in war, but Link had never asked to confirm his suspicion - and replaced the lock.

A new patrol began coming through daily, and the soldiers started buying up supplies from the market. Herbs, arrows, food, in quantities no one was used to losing. Everyone began working earlier, longer, more intently to try and anticipate shortages or chaos.

Link tried to get Uncle Maz to pace himself, but the man worked out his anger and frustrations, his fears, in anything productive and taxing his hands could reach.

When he found Maz collapsed in the barn one evening, overextended past the point old wounds had healed, coughing up decades of smoke and scar tissue-

He should have known things would go downhill quickly.

“-- You’re not _fine._ ” Link insisted as he wiped dirt away from leathered skin, and all but dragged his grumbling uncle to the house under the waning light. He cleaned up how he could, and got Maz settled into bed. He tried not to look at how still the old man was while he rummaged through cabinets for medicine. When he found none, he booked it on foot into the market.

The patrol wandered around the inn and through the tavern, idle in their evening, and Link skirted around buildings and through bushes to avoid their gaze. Everywhere else was officially closed, but the back door of the medicine woman’s home was always open to old friends.

“I’m sorry, Link,” Old Nanna shook her head while her granddaughter kept watch out the kitchen window. “I would make him a cure, but the soldiers cleaned me out yesterday.”  
“He can’t move,” Link insisted, “he’ll kill himself by next week, if it stays like this. Is there really nothing you can do…?”  
“Well, there’s always--” Lasli, Nanna’s granddaughter, began.  
“-- My sister would have a ready supply. Such things are more local to her. However… Well, her store is in Castletown.”

Link sank into a chair, holding his head in his hands while he reeled. The women looked at him in deep concern, watching him carefully for the long moments he remained in his own head.

“I’ll - need to take my horse.” He said, finally. When he raised his eyes, he gave them a pleading look. “It’ll be a few days, at least. Will you - will you watch him, while I’m gone? Please.”

Lasli was taken aback. “What? You’re seriously going to go? It’s bad enough all the way out here, who knows how much worse the city streets will be.”  
Nanna simply nodded, patting Link’s shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on him. But my girl has a point, it’d be foolish to go alone. Take someone with you, or some protection.”

It felt like a sin.

He’d stopped at the village shrine, a tiny little thing towards the base of the mountain, on his way home. He’d lit incense, said a prayer, left some of his uncle’s tobacco as an offering. He prayed to the spirits, whatever would listen - for his uncle, for his village, for Halim and his sisters.  
Then, he’d taken a crowbar to the trunk in the loft.

The shirt and belts inside were decades old, but preserved in sweet smelling herbs and thin paper; dark hues and sturdy dark green fabric, intricate embroidery along the hem told the story of a young man leaving his ancestral home and never managing to return. Such patterns and color were rare these days, but they were more reliable for travel and agility than a farm boy’s clothes. He folded his own clothes into the knapsack he packed, in case - but took his uncle’s garb upon himself.

  
His hands were shaking, when he reached for the sword. It would have been foolish to raise a young Sheikah man to hunt and farm, but not to fight - but Maz Koshia had never shown his nephew the sword, and always made it clear that such things were not to be sought out.

It felt like a sin.

He strapped the sword to his back, his saddle bags onto Epona, and rode into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruh-Roh, Raggy.  
> [\- my tumblr -](https://inkybirdy.tumblr.com/)


	3. Friendly Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes anticipating errands.

It felt like a crime. 

The way the King of Hyrule paced about the cabinet room, the way the members sent their furtive looks across the table to one another before scribbling down notes, how the curtains were drawn and all service staff sent away, the way the map of the kingdom was stretched out with pawns and daggers decorating its surface. 

It felt like a crime was being planned, and the sovereign heir did not allow their steady glare to abate as it followed the click of the king’s heels. 

“I don’t think ‘invasion’ is the proper word.” Zelda said finally, “It’s one tribe, one malnourished tribe with few contacts. It’s nothing.” 

“It’s  _ treason _ .” The King hissed. “Or do you  _ wish  _ to allow any discontented group to form ranks and set up camp outside the capitol, putting everyone from travelling merchants to local citizens at risk? Perhaps the next time a drought hits the Zora may confiscate the moat, in protest to the weather!” 

“No one has been hurt.” Zelda kept an even tone. “They’re across the river to our West, they haven’t advanced - not a temple, or a village, or a traveler has been disturbed. We can’t slaughter them for camping.” 

“The Crown will not be intimidated!” 

Such had the meeting been for hours, and as such it would continue into the foreseeable future. Eventually, Zelda stood and excused themself from the meeting, but the sour look on their face did not leave them as they walked through the halls. 

“I presume that went well.” A smooth, comforting voice came from the shadows off to the side. Impa fell into step beside the teenager, and fondly readjusted their askew circlet. 

“He’s a fool.” Zelda spat. “A blustering fool. He’s been insulted, he won’t listen - and the rest of them are no use, chasing his ego at the cost of the wellbeing of the-”

Impa shushed, softly, as a couple of maids passed by. Zelda shook their head, and turned off to a balcony to take a breath. 

Down past the gatehouses, the moat, Castletown went about its day as usual. Soon, it would be crawling even more with soldiers and scouts looking for suspicious figures to haul away into interrogation. Elsewhere in the kingdom Hyrule was awakening, preparing for the thought of war. Below them, in the courtyard, a small group of squires chased after one another. 

There had been a dream, a few nights before. The squires’ bootsteps harkened back to rows of soldiers, fleeing a phantasmic horror astride a steed of shadow. Glowing eyes of topaz pierced through the smoke, and screams-

There had been a boy. A young man with dark skin and moon-pale hair, green garb no one had seen in years, and a sword of legend that he refused to remove from its sheath. His eyes had seen a world set asunder, and he stood before the warhorse and bid it to calm. He reached his hand out for the steed’s phantom master to hold, but behind him in a flash of steel--

“I’m going.” Zelda said, finally. “Somethings going to happen - I’m going to be there.” 

A nod from Impa and Zelda went back inside, already undoing a braid from their hair. 

~

It had been deep into the night, near early morning, when Link passed the ridge towards the plains. He’d stayed off of the road, and thanked all that was good in the universe that Epona was an old friend of rough and boggy terrain. 

Through the light rain, the mud, the slick, the darkness of the night and the ringing of his thoughts in his head, he didn’t see the hands that shot out to pull him out of the saddle. 

Epona’s neighing was more a screech as she reared back, hands grabbing at her lead and her saddlebags. Link tried to shout for her, but his mouth was covered and his nose pinched shut, armored arms pinning his own to his side and dragging him into the darkness.    
_ Stupid, _ he thought,  _ So stupid!  _   
Perhaps if he had cut farther North, or somehow gone South and just forded the river, but he needed to--   
  


“Link!?”   
A voice cut through the clinking metal and panicked, boggled mind. His mouth was uncovered, his shoulders shaken roughly for his attention. The culprit pulled back the golden helmet obscuring identity, and tried again.    
“ _ Link!  _ What the hell are you doing here?”    
After a breath and a second, Link’s clarity returned. She shook the slowing drizzle out of her flaming, intricate braids.   
Nabooru.    
“My--” He began, only to be cut off again.   
“ _ Captain! _ ” Another armored gerudo insisted. “Patrol approaching westward!”    
Nabooru cursed under her breath as Epona protested again, but resigned herself to the fate of failure of her stakeout. Grabbing Link’s arm, she once again pulled him along into the night, worried neighs and the huffs of giant boar soon the only distant evidence of anyone’s previous presence in the area.    
  


It had been a long night for everyone.

The leaders of the Gerudo Tribe remained around the fire where they’d been for hours, exchanging stern looks and harsher words as time went on. For nearly a week yet again they had been denied audience with Hyrule, and as more soldiers began to filter in and out of their capitol the more antsy the tribe had become. All day now, the elder Rova and her alliance of captains had worn down the Gerudo King, all day they had insisted on sending soldiers in secret to Castletown. Marking down defenses, sending a warning to the uncooperative King, making it clear that the Gerudo would not leave Hyrule empty handed. The Gerudo King thought it too risky, too many prying eyes and too few in their ranks to afford losses, but--

“Fine,” Halim grit his teeth, “Load up and prepare to skirt the city. I want to know every single loose brick in their defenses. Scouts will have until three hours before sun-up to be…”

He trailed away to silence. ‘Accounted for’ he’d meant, but had been caught by silhouettes approaching the light of the camp, the muffled whinny of a horse. 

A flit of moon-white hair had him marching off, Rova calling after to no reply. 

“He was passing through the Ridge - nearly got cut off by a Hylian patrol.” Nabooru answered before Halim asked, practically pushing Link into his arms.    
Naturally the two held each other, but instead of his presence easing the tense hold of his shoulders, Halim only seemed more grave. “Why aren’t you at home? You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.”    
“I--”   
“Is that a- Why do you have a sword?” Halim interrupted, “Have you lost your mind?”    
“That’s not--”   
“Where would you even get--”   
“Halim.” Link didn’t raise his voice, but his look did quiet his lover.   
Link huffed, but at least was finally able to answer the question. “Uncle is ill. The soldiers cleaned out the village, so I’m going to Castletown for medicine.”    
“You can’t.” 

In the firelight, Link’s scarlet eyes were piercing as they flitted from glaring up at his lover to taking account of the camp. Armored soldiers, leaders in tense meetings, secret patrols off the road; if the Gerudo meant to fight, they were going to within days, if not hours. 

Link let out a breath before he looked back up at Halim, reciprocating his gravity. He repeated, quiet but firm, “I’m going to Castletown for medicine.” 

He could feel the molten looks from the Gerudo around him - some in concern, some in confusion, others in frustration as they looked between him and their King.    
“We should not delay.” Rova stated, as though Halim’s focus was on her and not still fixed on scarlet eyes. “Every day we waste, the more fortified the Hyrulean guard becomes.” 

Link’s voice softened slightly, just above a whisper even compared to his normal quiet tone. “Has it been that bad…?”

All at once Halim felt the eyes of his people upon him. 

Even without moving his head to look further than a quick glance up from his lover, golden eyes bored into his skin. Like a phantom fire it was like their eyes could make the gold of his ornamentation heat and melt into his flesh. They had been turned away from the castle, his people and his allies demanded action. His jaw worked, and he could swear if Link listened closely he could hear the hammering of his heart. 

“My liege.” Rova prompted, and he heard her voice through cotton.    
He swallowed.    
“As I said. Tomorrow we run reconnaissance.” Halim straightened up and did pay Rova her due attention. After his order was given, he wound an arm about Link’s shoulders and led him away from the fire and group, towards his tent, with a soft, “Come talk with me.” 

~

The Gerudo King was not one to fancy himself above his people, as was the case with most all leaders of their tribe. Aside from a few more intricate weavings here and there, a half of the area dedicated to a travelling war-room of sorts with maps and other logistical supplies, his tent was not very different from any other. Link shrugged off his sword and reached to light the small lamp on the table, when they entered. Halim still seemed nervous enough to want to pace or throw something, nearly caged in the small space, but away from expectant eyes and the revealing light of the bonfire he could at least try and roll the tension from his shoulders. 

His back was turned to Link, who stared at him in stretching silence. 

“You look tired.”    
It was like Halim had nearly forgotten Link was there, until he spoke, lost in his thoughts. He ran his fingers through his braids and, with a heavy breath, removed his crown.    
“It’s been a long trip. I’m sorry about your uncle - it must be very grave.”    
“I’ll take care of it.” Gentle hands took the crown out of his own. Link set it on the table, then returned again to face Halim properly. “I thought you were going to try and meet with the King.”    
Halim shook his head and took hold of Link’s hands again, turning them over in his own. “He’s refused all word I’ve sent. He seems convinced we’re planning some kind of insurrection.”    
“Are you?”    
“I’m not.” Halim pressed Link’s knuckles to his lips. “What I said before - you can’t go into Castletown until morning; they’ve installed a curfew for the locals, you won’t be able to get inside, let alone buy anything.”    
“I’ll wait.”

‘ _ I’ll wait here _ ’ he meant. Uncle Maz’s condition tugged at the corner of his mind in anxious fervor, but Link’s heart couldn’t help but ache as well at seeing the Gerudo King so plagued by his own mind. He did wait, and coax Halim to sit down with him on the bedroll. He settled in behind Halim and spoke softly, carefully unfastening his golden armor and setting it aside, making himself the opportunity to try and rub stone back into muscle. 

Slowly Halim relaxed and unraveled, unwound to instead embrace his lover. Rationally, he was aware of his need to review the Castletown map again, or run another check on the supply wagons after the rain - but the light scent of desert fruit and sand mingled so well with rain and flower-guarded fabric and old tobacco, it was all too easy to let much else slip from his mind. Guarded by soft lamplight they were together, and at least for some time could forget the world beyond the canvas shelter in lieu of warm breath and soft skin. 

At least, for some time. 

With ease and comfort, after the lamp was snuffed and bedroll set once again in order, came the admission. 

“I don’t want a war, Link.” He said, as if he were hiding shame in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to kill anyone. Everyone’s so determined, but…”    
Link reached over to brush wild red locks from Halim’s face, meeting glowing eyes in the darkness. When Halim didn’t continue he waited, then offered, “Then… let’s not have one. Let’s go tomorrow, work out some other thing.”    
Halim pressed into his touch, then stretched to pull Link to his chest, hold him close. “They won’t listen.”    
“They might.”   
“... Go with me?”    
Link nodded against him. “Always.” 

It was the Gerudo King’s turn for unsettled sleep, but at least the warm presence in his arms kept away the vivid visions that had followed him from the desert. Moonlight hair seemed a net, against them - the flames and screaming, his sisters’ bodies littering the ground, a dark mist engulfing him and handing his mind to some ancient beast. 

For now, he was dreamless. He was blessed. 

He wished morning would bide its time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school started, here's this. it's becoming increasingly clear to me i have no idea how many chapters its gonna take to get to any one point in the thing in my brain. saddle up kids, next time we're going into town.


	4. An Inconvenient Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most drawn out grocery run in history.

Link had been to Castletown only once before. 

When he was small, he and his uncle more often traveled across the regions in the Sheikah trading caravans. So often, in fact, he barely noticed when Uncle Maz packed away the rest of their things or that they ceased to return to Kakariko Village altogether, and eventually settled down on their farm. Crates of dried meats and assorted fruits and vegetables, large bolts of woven fabric and chests locked away from the eyes of children filled his memories of the clacking old carts. Keeping goats and chickens for eggs and milk, listening to songs around a campfire, smelling the old tobacco the men smoked when a sad thought reached them - such things were as natural to him as seeing grass in a prairie. 

Castletown had been a rare moment of straying away from the caravan. Maz had kept Link’s hand firmly in his own as they wove through the densely packed streets and the labyrinthine alleyways. Link had needed to trot in order to keep up with the grown paces his uncle made; his efforts not to trip had been so distracting in themselves that being stopped by soldiers, going into dark taverns or hidden shopping districts had gone near over his head. 

One thing was clear, however, while Link tried to parse his memory - Castletown had grown. A bustling town over a little more than a decade had grown into the most metropolitan area in Hyrule. From any direction for miles, one could see the grandeur that was Hyrule Castle; around it sprawled the city in all its glory. Cobblestone streets, running water, rickshaw in the upper districts, a stall or store or another at every glance, intricate artistic detailing at every opportunity - it was, truly, the center of the kingdom and its proudest symbol. Before he’d even crossed Carok bridge in the early morning light, the place made Link feel incredibly small. 

The outskirts of town, hugging the river’s edge, led through the Quarry to a breach in the walls that surrounded the city center. The small party, consisting of the Gerudo King, Captain Nabooru, the advisor General Rova, a couple of soldiers, and the stray farm boy were able to stow their mounts and make it through undetected, under their traveler’s clothes and the automatic disguise of the bustling city. 

“Do you know where you’re headed?” Halim didn’t let go of Link’s hand, either, his gaze flitting around from under the hood that obscured his flaming locks and crown.    
“Not really…” Link murmured in reply, giving a bit of a shrug, “... but I’m sure a medicine shop won’t be too difficult to find, yeah?” 

The other Gerudo dispersed in the crowd around them, intending on scouting the outer defenses of the city and meet with assorted contacts within the walls. Halim barely hid his frown as he watched them go, but redirected his furrowed brow to his lover. 

“This place is dangerous. We’ll stay together, I’ll help you look.”    
Link shook his head, though he did push up on his toes to press a kiss against Halim’s cheek. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Your people will be waiting on your report too, right…? By the time you meet up with them I’ll be finished, I’ll come meet you.”    
“Then…”   
“Then - we’ll go try again, at the castle.” 

Link’s quiet reassurances and soft, warm smile met Halim’s contemplative frown. The sheikah hadn’t even brought his sword, but left it with his saddlebags - surely -

By the time Halim had registered this and opened his mouth to speak, Link had kissed him again, and disappeared into the crowd.    
“ _ My King _ …!” Nabooru hissed to him from an alleyway, and dragged out of his thoughts, the King went to meet her. 

~

It took far too long wandering, squinting at Hylian script on road signs, getting lost through unfamiliar and too similar streets, for Link to find the medicine woman’s small store. However, a stumbling conversation with the old woman and a near-cleaned out wallet later, he’d managed to buy the medicine he was sure Maz needed. The dark green, pungent, mossy medicine lay secure in the pouch in his hand, leaving him with the next of his questions.

That being, he had no idea how long it would take him to return to his village. The road here had been much more dangerous than Link had anticipated with the growing amount of soldiers, let alone now that he’d unintentionally rendezvoused with the Gerudo and been sucked into their most recent affairs. There was no telling how the meeting at the castle would go, or how much further into Hyrule his promise to Halim would take him. 

At first, Link thought perhaps he’d be able to find a postman. The Rito had the reputation of incredibly reliable messengers, and those who passed through Link’s village had always been kindly - in such a large city they surely had some kind of outpost, and surely Link could manage to send the medicine as a delivery. 

In all fairness, it was a very good thought. 

However, mere moments after Link entered what seemed to be more a center of the city, with a large fountain and many official looking buildings not too far off from him, he very nearly collided with the massive soldier blocking his path. Before he could manage to wonder about how worryingly often this was beginning to happen to him, the collar of his shirt was grasped and pulled, jostling him towards the eye level of the soldier. 

“Where d’you think you’re headed?” The helmet headed soldier demanded.    
“Uh…” Link blinked. “I was looking for a post--”   
“An’ where’d you get that?” The soldier nodded towards Link’s hand, still holding the small pouch.    
“Well - there was a store--”   
“So you thought to bring unmarked goods through the checkpoint without presenting proper documents.”    
Link glanced around where he was still being held fast by the growling soldier. The nearby stalls didn’t seem particularly like some kind of gate - though, he supposed there were a few other soldiers making their way over from one…    
“Aye, you blood-eyed hick, can’t you read?” The soldier spat. He roughly released Link, only to grab his arm and snatch the pouch from his hand. “This’ll be confiscated, and you’ll need to step aside for questioning.”    
By now there were two other soldiers flanking the one. Crimson eyes darted between the three of them, before snapping into harsher focus. Link released his arm from the soldier’s grip. “No.”   
“Come again?”   
“No,” Link repeated. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Give that back, I’ll leave.” He’d simply turn around and go back to the part of the city from which he’d come - there wasn’t time for this, nor did he have the money left to buy more of the medicine. 

When he reached to take back the pouch, it became clear to him that was the wrong answer. 

~~~~

**He was going to get himself killed.**

Every young person that was anything less than a purebred Hylian merchant was told, perhaps in varying levels of detail, to avoid the Hyrulean Guard at all costs or otherwise minimize every interaction as much as possible. Unfortunately, hearing such things and doing so in practice afterwards was rarely so simple. 

Not like it mattered too much in the end, of course - often, the Guard had already decided the ending of an encounter before it had begun. 

From where they crouched on a nearby roof, Sheik watched the young sheikah man as he was punched in the gut and dragged off by three helmet-clad musketeers.

Sheik had seen him in the early morning, near the Quarry, as he split ways with his taller companion. Sturdy, but weathered boots marked him a traveler; lean muscle and a notch on his belt for a sickle marked him a farm boy; embroidered detail on his woven tunic’s hem, varied earrings, crimson eyes, and a shock of white hair left his heritage unhidden as well. From the outskirts to the city around the lower district’s paths, to a medicine shop, and wandering into the city center in what nearly looked like a daze - he’d seemed just as out of place in Castletown as he had in the battlefield, in their dream. 

A conscription from the guard would place him there, but he’d borne no official seal, not even the ill-fitting armor so many young men were tossed on their way to the front lines. Instead he’d looked so similar, save for the sword… 

Their intention had been to locate and track the Gerudo spies no doubt somewhere amidst the bowels of the city, but seeing him tossed anything else to the wayside. Under no circumstances would they lose track of him now. 

Adjusting the mask over their face and the cowl about their head, Sheik slipped down from the roof they’d made their perch and wound their way into the crowds, following the soldiers at a distance as they dragged their unfortunate quarry towards their outpost.

~~~~~

The dungeons seemed less a formal facility, like the prison in the northwest, than a weblike companion to the sewers under the castle and city center. During his struggles with the soldiers that dragged him this way and that, overpowering him with their numbers and the hilt-end of their swords, Link registered the dank catacombs by their smells, the occasional clink of chains, and a bone or two being crushed underfoot by one of his captors. By the time he was finally tossed into a cell and left be to regain his boggled bearings, it was obvious to Link that not only was he one of the few, if not the only, prisoners left - but, upon registering the skeleton sitting across the cell, one of the even lesser numbers still alive. 

Some stories the older men in the trading caravans spoke of the dungeons being a place of refuse; those who were stored there were either taken into conscription, or left forgotten. The truth of these tales seemed etched into the slime between the bricks. 

Link kicked himself and slumped back against the wall, rubbing at his face with a quiet groan. 

Stupid. 

He should have been more careful - gone immediately back to his saddlebags to store the medicine and met up with the others, he could have figured out going home later. He should never have gone too near the city center or, hell, even out of the side streets. Now there was no way he would get home at all, let alone manage to get help to his uncle or even keep his promise to Halim. 

Halim… Once he realized he'd be so -

“Worried?” 

Link looked up, at the voice. He hadn’t spoken. The nearest torch was yards down the corridor, but in the dimness, he saw a figure past the bars. Sharp sea-green eyes glinted at him and said ‘Hylian scout’, but the pale braid and woven scarf and cowl more resembled any of the grandsons of Kakariko. At the very least, it wasn’t a soldier.

“You’ve met with some terrible luck.”    
“I- s’ppose.” Link pushed himself up to stand and brushed himself off, before venturing closer to the figure. “Are you-?”   
“A passerby. You seem out of place.” The other young Sheikah (?) nearly sounded bored, as they began to sift through the pouch on their hip to pull out a lockpick. “Castletown isn’t too kindly for tourists.”    
A bit of embarrassment warmed Link’s face, as he pulled lightly at one of his earrings. “I see that. I was on an errand.”    
“For trouble?”   
“Medicine, for my uncle.” He replied, “But I won’t be home that quickly, so I was looking for a mail carrier.”    
“Why not?”   
Link considered, before offering cautiously, “My fiance and I have other business in town. How did you get here, past the guards?”    
“I go where I go.” 

The cell lock clicked, and the unknown savior opened the door with a creak. Without a moment’s wait they grabbed Link’s forearm and pulled him through, before setting off down the corridor.    
“Ah - wait, what are you--?”   
“Do you  _ want _ to stay here?”   
“No, but why--?”   
“You look out of place.”   
“And, who--?”

In another familiar circumstance, the stranger whirled on him. They covered his mouth and pulled him into an alcove at the approach of a torchlight. A guard passed in what felt like a century, but when the footsteps faded Link was again released. His companion turned back to him, holding a hand out to shake. 

“Sheik.”    
After a beat, he took it.   
“Link.”    
“Let’s get out of here, Link.”    
With a nod and a check for another oncoming patrol, the two skirted off into the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendship ended with the military industrial complex. now shiek is my good friend.


	5. Scout's Honor

‘ _ Let’s get out of here _ ’ was more easily said than done, when it came to the dungeons of Hyrule. 

Every scratch on the stone floor, every scuttling rat or the popping flame of a torchlight had the two vagabonds near jumping out of their boots. Every other door or gate blocking their path seemed to operate from a hidden switch or a chain it took both of them leaning over the sewer canals to reach. It was a wonder that even trained soldiers could find their way around, Link thought. 

“How do you know where we’re going?” He ventured to his companion, after awhile.

Sheik shrugged, “I’m guessing, really.” and Link felt the pit that had become resident in his stomach double in size. All the same he hoisted the other onto his shoulders, so that they could tug a torch down from the wall. 

Before too terribly long they’d worked out somewhat of a system. Sheik seemed to have at least a passably better understanding of the sewers of the city, could sprint and slip through smaller spaces, and even in the dark could read Hylian script much faster than Link could manage. Meanwhile, Link could run and climb longer than Sheik, had mechanical experience that he could use his knowledge and some strength to bypass a few of the older gate-and-door systems, and had a hunter’s eye and assurance where Sheik would otherwise have crouched and waited for indefinite amounts of time. Together they were able to avoid most traps and the occasional patrol and, even though admittedly fairly lost, seemed to be making progress as their environment evolved from dungeon to sewer outpost. 

In the stretches of darkness, perhaps to distract from the foreboding atmosphere, the two exchanged quiet questions. For instance - it was garnered that Sheik had lived in Castletown all their life, with their mother, while Link lived in the foothills of Satori Mountain with his uncle. Sheik didn’t travel as much as they’d like, Link had at least a passing knowledge of quite a few areas in the land. Link’s fiance was sweet-hearted and warm, and when the two were children he’d cried easily, though mostly out of concern or affection. (Sand-seals, after all, did not have legs, and voltfruit worked so very hard to be so very vibrant.) Sheik had few friends, but a fair amount of acquaintances throughout the city. Link carried tobacco but only smoked when he felt it polite or necessary, Sheik carried a flask and drank when they felt like it - mostly when the city made them particularly tired.

Unfortunately their luck did not last forever, and questions began to retreat into tense silence as one close call or broken lockpick followed another. 

At a particularly promising door, a cruel ‘ _ snap! _ ’ from the last of Sheik’s picks ran through the air, away with much of Link’s already dwindling hopes.    
“ _ Fuck _ . Rusty trash....” Sheik hissed under their breath, tossing it down sharply. Link watched it bounce across the stone. “Can you swim?”    
Link grimaced as he looked to the sludgy water of the canals. “Not through that.”    
“Fuck.” Sheik refrained as they stood. “Fine.” 

No avoiding it now - they were going to have to get a key from someone, or find an unlikely other way. 

~

Link’s compatriot seemed to know this way better than they did the rest of the sewers, as they led the way yet again along winding canals back deeper into the dungeons. Through a system of gates and doors significantly easier to open than those apparently leading topside was a larger chamber. Within the dungeon catacombs, awash in firelight and stretching two stories was what nearly seemed a hive of stone pathways and tunnels. Banners on the walls and assorted basic furniture supplied a lived in quality, but the few idling people and the centerpiece of the structure revealed its full nature. 

Under the looming gaze of a statue in the center of the chamber, was the true heart and hideaway of the Hyrulean Guard. The marble stood as its mascot, the figure bathed in firelight was a young man with a Hylian Shield and a steely gaze, firm and triumphant as he held aloft a mighty sword. 

Link didn’t even need to peer at the heraldry on the statue’s perch to know who it was. The most consistent figure in historical myth, the claimed patron of not only the Guard but all that was deemed noble and just in Hylian society - the Bearer of Courage, the Legendary Hero. 

“There’s one in the lower quarter, too.” Sheik murmured, the two having been caught in silence as they beheld the monument from their hiding place behind a few shadowed barrels.    
“Seems… like a lot of space.” Link replied, as his eyes trailed along the hilt of the sword the statue held.    
“Well - they weren’t going to put it topside.” If he was listening a little more closely he would have heard the scoff in their voice, “It’s said the only thing Hyrule truly fears is the birth of another Courage. Like a harbinger of calamity, no matter what the legends say - the nobles don’t like to be reminded about it.”    
“Strange people.” Link shrugged lightly, and finally looked away. The nobles familiar to Sheik’s mind were not like his own beloved king, the leaders of Gerudo knew joy in their brave people that Hyrule would, apparently, refuse. 

He wondered if Halim would be able to hold a civil conversation with such leaders, who thought such things.

Near the base of the statue there were the three soldiers from earlier, sitting around one of the wooden tables, playing cards. They were passing a flask between them, stacking rupees on the table for their game, and occasionally taking turns getting up to check for other soldiers headed their way. One had keys hanging from his belt, taunting the fugitives as they reflected in the light. 

The two seemed to spy them at the same time, Sheik narrowing their eyes at the keys and patting Link’s arm for his attention. A murmured question concerning his aim later, a bit of shuffling, and the two readied themselves. 

The fire pit that fed most of the light into the lower floor of the chamber had a pot hanging above it. Ever so carefully, Link opened the barrel he was behind and grabbed one of the objects within - an apple, fortunately, not something more unruly or difficult to throw. Meanwhile, his companion skirted as close to the table as they dared, crouching behind barrels and crates and chairs until they were finally behind a crate only a few yards off from their goal. Sheik took their position in a lunge not unlike a hunting cat, eyes trained on the guard with the keys, while Link took a soft breath and focused his aim. 

**_CRASH!_ **

The trio of soldiers were up like a shot when the pot behind them was smacked off of its support and into the fire. One went, sputtering, to try and lift the pot up again; the second ran to check if another patrol was coming down the hall; the third, the one with the keys on his belt, was quickly gathering cards thrown across the tables, and scrambling to pick up the spilled flask and scattered rupee hoard. 

Sheik was off in an instant - they slid under the table altogether, and with a flick of their hand claimed their prize from the soldier’s belt. Link grabbed another apple and lobbed it, this time taking aim for a torch on the wall. He smacked it out of its holder and in the moment the guards were doubly distracted, Sheik darted back to join him. The pair didn’t gamble with staying another moment, and escaped the way they’d come back into the dungeon corridor. 

From there, it was only a matter of time before their transgression would be noticed. Due caution was only haphazardly paid as the two backtracked down the halls they’d previously puzzled through. Even a second was too long to spend in such a place. 

Through stumbling over old brick, fumbling with the keys only to toss them aside, and sprinting into the unknown beyond the door - neither slowed their pace until they were once again well into the back streets and alleyways of the Castletown lower district and safe in the daylight. 

~

They finally stopped in a calm back alley, strung up with drying laundry and untended ivy, collapsing to sit on the edge of the small font built out of a wall. 

With only the sound of running water, birdsong, and far off market bustling to chase them, Link eventually managed to catch his breath and feel secure. 

No clanking armor, no skeletons. Only fresher air, and a bustling market beyond the quiet oasis. 

“Thank you.” He said, once he found his even breath, turning a warm smile towards his compatriot, “Really, thank you.”    
Sheik waved him off as they took longer to regain themselves, wordlessly reaching back to their pack again. Soon they retracted their hand, pulling out a small bag and pressing it into Link’s palm - the confiscated medicine pouch, a bit dirty but otherwise no worse for wear. “Don’t mention it.”   
Despite their mask, when Link grinned at them, letting out a relieved laugh, he knew it was reciprocated. 

Soon Sheik stood again, dusting themselves off and rolling their shoulders. They looked back, watching Link tuck the medicine away. “C’mon then. You said you need a postman.” 

~

There was indeed a mail outpost in the lower quarter, if one knew how to find their way. 

Rito tribespeople had found steady economy in taking the land’s mail services under their proverbial wing. Not only were they the fastest of groups in Hyrule and needed little training to be able to deliver even the most frail of packages across the continent, but the tribal leaders had long since established specific treatises with every other tribe of any decent size; they were beholden to no outside military or general law, keeping only to their own customs and decisions, and no matter the circumstance they kept their privacy and that of their letters. In this way they could physically and lawfully travel anywhere and speak with anyone, with no repercussions other than those they had agreed to among themselves. Not for lack of trying by many through recent years, but as it stood the word of the Rito or their Dragon was paramount. By this virtue they were widely considered the first ally of many, and enemy to grave few. 

Additionally, their outposts were fun to look at. 

Usually simple and attached to the watchtower of a village, in Castletown the outpost was perched atop a system of the higher roofs of the district; a web of shakes with weather vanes and wind-catchers that flew proud flags, connected by a series of ladders and rope bridges for those who could not simply fly between the rooms. 

Link nearly forgot the task at hand, staring out over the view of the city from a walkway as he and Sheik made their way up. It was no wonder he’d been unable to find it from the ground - amid the streamers and banners that filled the rafters of the markets below, to the untrained eye even such a whimsical structure would have blended in with the colors and otherwise seemed a far off series of rooftops or additions to the city walls. 

After being prompted from his pause by his companion, Link and Sheik entered what appeared to be the main room of the outpost, central in the web and larger than its counterparts. Shelves labelled in Rito script lined the walls, landing planks were opposite the walking entrance, with feathers and packing straw floating lightly through the breeze. The tired Rito running the main counter was still stately in his height, downy feathers and a vibrant crest above piercing eyes and a strong beak. When Sheik entered and approached with a wave, he acknowledged them. 

“Lurking around, I see.”    
“Quill.” Sheik greeted evenly while they idled at the counter, and nodded towards Link when he caught up with them. “We would like to send out a package, please.”    
The Rito looked Link over as he pulled out the medicine pouch again, as well as a rupee, an eyebrow slightly cocked. “Where to?”    
“Maz Koshia, in Satori village.”    
“Satori?” Quill took the rupee and the pouch, and tied a note around the package with string. “Guess it must’ve been you, then - girl came by earlier, asked if a traveler from Satori had stopped by.”    
Link perked up from where he’d been watching Quill’s swirling script, and the assortment of stamps on the counter. “A girl? Was she-?”   
“She went to the tavern nearby, next to the canal. It shouldn’t be hard to find, south and down the steps.” Quill seemed thoroughly unfazed, and tucked the package away on the proper shelf. “I’ll send this out in the next hour or so.”

Link thanked Quill, repeatedly, and did not notice the look the Rito and Sheik exchanged as he whirled and left the outpost. Already he could feel his steps lightening, bit by bit; much of the prospective future aside, at least now he knew his uncle would get what he needed, and now he could focus on -   
“Hold up, there!” Sheik fell into step beside him, having lingered at the outpost a few moments further. “I thought you were here with your man?”    
“His sister, too. Some of them are travelling with us.” Link replied, savoring the weight even slightly leaving his chest and his normal, softer expression settling back into its place. 

“Some?” 

He practically hopped down the steps towards the tavern, and couldn’t help but grin when he saw the two figures congregated off towards the side entrance. Nabooru noticed him first, past her own companion’s shoulder, and readjusted her headscarf as she gave a small smile. Halim turned instantly when she did, nearly losing his own cowl, and was hit by a wave of relief. 

“Moonbeam,  _ there _ you are - sands preserve us, you had me worried.”    
Link outstretched his arms as he went to meet them, and felt better than he had in days when his lover encircled him in comforting warmth.    
Halim held him securely, kissing the top of his head. “I was looking everywhere for you. It’s been hours, where have you been? What happened?” 

It was indeed into the early evening, now that Link noticed, as he pulled back a bit from Halim’s chest. “Just, ah - a bit of trouble, but I’m fine. I’m sorry to worry you.”    
Halim’s expression darkened in concern immediately, but was at least abated a bit when Link reached up to brush a spare red lock back into place. Instead of an explanation, at least for now, he turned Halim’s attention with a nod towards his compatriot.    
“This is Sheik - they helped me find my way. Sheik - Halim, and Nabooru.” 

Sheik had stopped dead in their tracks a few yards away, staring between the distracted reunion. 

~

The world was cruel, filled to the brim with fuss and misery, at the mercy of whatever cosmic prank the gods chose for any particular day. 

Even with the hood and unassuming clothes of a traveler, those molten eyes were the only thing they needed to see to know who and what Link’s dear fiance was. 

In hindsight, they felt foolish for thinking it would end up being anyone else. 

“A pleasure.” They nodded in greeting to the Gerudo King, stepping closer when Link outstretched his hand in gesture to them.    
“Thank you.” The king replied, his arm settled around Link’s shoulders to keep him safely close to himself, “Whatever happened, I’m glad Castletown holds at least one friendly face.”    
Sheik carefully idled their stance, arms folded across their chest. “A rarer thing these days. I was told you’re on some errand trip - I hope you manage to remain together, for the rest of it.”

“You should have food with us later, let us thank you properly.” Link suggested.    
“We may not be in the area even by tonight.” The young woman who’d accompanied the king, Sheik presumed some kind of captain or confidant, reminded. 

Link quieted in thought, before Halim cut in. “But, perhaps. Tonight, or tomorrow if our luck holds, it would only be right.”    
“Your business for today is unfinished?” Sheik tilted their head.    
The king nodded lightly. “An appointment we’ve had some difficulty making. Though, I hold hope we’ll have it sorted out soon enough.” 

Link gave a comforting pat to Halim’s hand and sent a soft smile up to him. They all exchanged thanks again with Sheik, and parted ways with fair greetings and well-wishes. Sheik promised that they’d see one another again.

But, for the moment - the instant Sheik was back on the rooftops away from their view, they ran. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sheik's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day may just be getting started. but for that matter, so may everybody else's.   
> (my tumblr - inkybirdy.tumblr.com/tagged/adventure-boyfriends-au )


	6. A Note of Gravity

By the time Zelda had come through the servant’s entry, wound through the back of the garden, up the side stairs, and scaled the wall to climb back into their own window, they were half-dressed and stumbling towards their wardrobe. They tugged at their hair, tossed aside earrings, threw their cowl under their desk, and were hopping to wrestle a boot from their foot in a frenzy. 

After a few moments, Impa calmly entered the chamber with their previously abandoned bracers and overshirt in hand.    
“The garden is not the laundry, dear.” 

“Mother--” Zelda practically fell into her arms before they could regain their balance. “I saw-- they’re here, in the city. The Gerudo, their king and his party.”   


Impa righted, then shushed them. “We’ve known this. It is not to be panicked over.”    


“The boy, from my dream.” Zelda held Impa’s shoulders, their look very grave indeed. “The one who had the sword - Link. He’s with them, he’s  _ with _ their king.”   
As Zelda told their story, their scout of the city and encounter with Link, their mother’s face lost any trace of amusement it may have initially held. 

“His Majesty intends to disperse the camp tonight.” She said, finally.

“He can’t,” Zelda insisted, “We  _ cannot _ lose Link.” 

There had been too much blood. Whatever context had brought forth their visions, whatever events would lead the boy to the sword - he couldn’t die before it happened, or whatever he was born to face would ravage everything. The birth of Courage may frighten Hyrule, in theory, but the death of Courage would give way to far worse. If nothing else, Zelda was convinced of that.

Impa held her chin thoughtfully, “... Perhaps if you spoke with him, he--”   
“-- Is too paranoid.” Zelda finished exchanging their clothes, and reached for their crown off of their desk. “We have to give them what they want.” 

“And that is…?” 

~~~~~~

Halim had been staring down at the paper in his hand for agonizingly long minutes. 

He did not look up, he did not move, he did not speak. Around him the rest of the tribe leaders, then his sisters, the soldiers, the rest of the group, even the boar had gathered. It was as if no one would breathe, not the crackling fire or the soft evening wind that stilled in its tracks; waiting. 

The letter had been there for them when they returned to camp. The rest of the time spent in Castletown had consisted of meeting up with the other Gerudo present and ensuring everyone, and the information they’d gathered, left in one piece. Reconnaissance had been shared between them, and on the trip back Link had told Halim of both the trouble and friend he’d encountered while they’d been apart.    
The dour look on the Gerudo king’s face could render men to ash - but he worked instead to focus on the relief he felt, past his frustration with every layer of the situation. He had pulled Link off of Epona and into his lap on his own mount, enveloped him in his arms, a protective hold as if he feared Link’d vanish at any moment’s notice.    
_ “Gods, I was so worried -”  _ He’d murmured against Link’s skin, near enough to his ear for it to twitch.  _ “They could have-- Please, don’t leave my side again in that awful place.”  _ __  
Link had promised.    
Then, one of the guards who had been left with the camp had run to meet them. She held the sealed note in a hand unable to hide its trembling. An order to leave, they’d thought. A declaration of conflict, they’d feared. A mockery, they half expected. 

“What does it say?” Rova prompted, her voice smoke in its quiet, her grip on her staff white-knuckled. She had been trying to urge Halim to arm the cannons and organize the troops since they’d first reunited on the road. Now at the center of the camp, it was a conversation to which most everyone was audience.

Link had his eyes trained on the seal at the bottom of the letter, from where he stood at Halim’s side, his hand resting on the king’s forearm. 

“It’s,” Halim swallowed, then tried again. “A summons, from Hyrule. An invitation to meet with him.” 

The collective breath of the camp was not relieved. Every spine felt the slightest tremor, every pair of shoulders tensed ever so much. 

Nabooru was the first to move, kicking a spare stick into the bonfire and spitting. “A trap.” 

“It’s good.” Link peered up at Halim. “Isn’t it? This is what we wanted.” 

“Foolish boy,” Rova frowned. “He would be more aligned with himself to have archers at the city gates, waiting for us to show our faces like moths to a flame. We abandoned the thought of ‘meetings’ months ago.” 

“It’s too risky.” Nabooru agreed. 

As if on cue, murmured chattering began among the rest of the Gerudo; some hushed, others more frantic, frustrated, or a mix of frightened and vindicated in a stew of stress. 

“Well… we wouldn’t necessarily have to come through the street, at least.” Link offered after awhile of watching the bustle. “There are paths everywhere, under the city. We could go at least part way through them.” 

“And then what?” Rova dismissed, “Go into the castle? You think that’s  _ wise _ ?” 

“I couldn’t say - but, what other choice is there?” 

“Halim.” Nabooru had moved close enough to put a hand on the king’s shoulder. “It’s your call.” 

“I…”    
Halim’s skin crawled with the eyes upon him. 

All confused, all hesitating, all expectant. 

His dream came to him again like a cue, the smell of blood lurking at the back of his throat.    
“... I need to think.”

The concerned looks around him only deepened but he pocketed the letter, and pat Nabooru’s hand. He kept his posture strong and stately as he assured them he’d have a decision quickly, his smile soft and reassuring when he kissed Link’s forehead. When he left them they all let him go; back to his tent and his maps as they remained in tense quiet. 

Link only half-heard Rova’s remark to him about his lack of experience in serious matters and his need to hold his tongue, as he watched Halim go. He settled on going to tend his horse, and to help with dinner, and trust that after some time in thought Halim would be back.    
He didn’t know what was wise, Rova had a point - he only hoped, prayed, that Halim did. 

~

Halim did not. 

He switched between pouring over the maps of the region, his notes on the city and its king, inventory lists, and pacing around his tent. He bit at his thumbnail, ran his hands through his hair, closed his eyes and tried to run numbers in his head. 

What were his choices, truly? 

They could pack up and leave, go back to the desert and hope Hyrule’s king forgot all about any of this. They could actually follow the trade route plan they’d lied about - go about their business, be done with it, keep things how they were.    
His people would never forgive him for that. He’d be a coward, Rova and the others would have half a mind to slit his throat. His sisters would never look at him again. 

They could just raid the city, like Rova and the commanders wanted - take control by force, trust that their allies would support them even if the Hylians rioted.    
The soldiers would slaughter them. That’d be too rash, too foolhardy. People in Castletown were just trying to get by, they didn’t deserve to have their homes burned and their leaders taken. A single dishwasher dead, and Halim would never forgive himself - infinitely more so if a single one of his sisters fell to the Guard. 

The only real choice was to go ahead and answer the invitation. Take some of his strongest people with enough to cover the ones left at camp, go try and sort out the whole thing. If the Crown was truthful, things would go well and everyone could go about their way.    
If not, he risked his best people being slaughtered, or worse. Not to mention himself, or - gods, Link. 

He regretted ever letting himself be talked into coming here. 

**“Are you finished agonizing, boy? You look pathetic.”**

Halim had stopped pacing and stood over the maps again, eyes shut tight, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to keep his breathing even. He looked up when he heard the voice, bitter as he cast his sharp gaze towards the shadows. 

“Quiet,” He hissed, “I don’t have time for madness, right now. I’m thinking.”

**“You’re afraid. It paralyzes you.”** It nearly sounded amused.    
The shadows at Halims feet seemed to swirl and stretch towards those in the corners of the tent, swelling until they loomed at the edge of the lamplight. Not unlike candles themselves, a pair of eyes opened in the dark, towering above even the Gerudo king. 

It had appeared first in the aftermath of his coronation, months ago. Though he’d acted as leader since he was a young teenager, Halim had not gone through the traditional rites; prayer pilgrimage to be blessed by the sands and ancestors, learning of old magic, offering his blood and his mind to the ancient wisdom, accepting the crown. 

When he did, it had shown itself. Appearing in the corner of his eye wherever light failed to reach; watching. Traipsing through his dreams, chiding him when he hesitated, giving him visions of ages long past and knowledge long lost to the elders.    
It claimed to be his namesake, a spirit sent to guide him in his reign and help him save his people… and in the past weeks, despite its torment, he had begun to believe. 

As if it were an ancient god itself, cruel and unfeeling, but still - it  _ knew _ . 

He did not dare speak of it to anyone, but it did not disappear. 

“What…” He asked, barely over a murmur as he stared at it, “What would you do?” 

**“You listen so readily.”** The shadows seemed to smirk.  **“Every murmur of your lover, every thought of your sisters, every stern look of your general...”**

“A king should-”

**“A king decides. I would take the city.”** It said such things often, as though Halim was a child who had not yet fully absorbed an important lesson. It reached into the light now, a dark gauntleted arm that scratched a claw-like finger down the map on the table.  **“But you have not prepared for a battle. You have no choice but to answer.”**

Halim felt his stomach churn. “It could be a trap.” 

**“It could.”** The arm retracted in a blink. The voice that felt directly next to Halim’s ears also felt all around him. **“Do not fret. I shall supply you the power to deal with foolishness.”**

“Rova will disagree.” 

**“A king commands.”**

Halim tried to ignore the burn he felt on his hand, under his glove, as it flared. 

~

Epona had been restless since returning to camp. Link had done his best to calm her, but still she distrusted their surroundings as if some part of them had soured. She only somewhat settled in the farthest reaches of the camp, the precipice between the firelight and the dark stretches of the fields beyond. 

Link rested his cheek against her neck while he pet her. They were southwest of the river bridge, far enough to be out of mind from the road but close enough to put trained eyes to see.

Not that he was really looking for anything. His eyes followed the fireflies that hovered around the tall grass, and he listened to the cicadas’ soft song. Looking more south he could imagine he saw the top of Satori Mountain - he wondered if the Rito had kept his word. 

Surely. 

He wondered if the spirits sat atop the mountain and watched the land below, or ever wanted to visit. He wondered what they would make of his trip, of the city. Perhaps they would find it exotic, and exciting. They could have fun flitting around the streets, looking for the twin of the catacomb statue and making strange flowers bloom around the fountains. Everything would smell like spring, and maybe he could find his way better with it a little more like home. 

But, then - perhaps they would find it sad. 

Something like a freezing wind, a phantom of the worst of winters, shot up his spine and ordered his brain to attention. Epona whinnied, apparently also subject to it, and nearly stomped on his foot but for the startled step he took away from her. 

“Are you alright?” Halim looked a little concerned, apologetic for not announcing his approach. 

It seemed for a moment that someone else was behind him, but when Link blinked he chalked it up to the start. “I’m fine. You…?” 

Halim looked just a little like he had when he was 12 years old and responsible for opening the gate to the boar’s nursing pen, buckling under a mound of piglets and Rova’s unforgiving glare. 

“That badly?”

“It’s - I’m also fine.” He nodded, after a moment, and seemed to regain himself. “We’re answering the summons. We’ll go mid-day, up to the front gates. If they want their traveling merchants, their citizens, and the post see us mowed down in the street - so be it. It will do the king no favors with anyone.” 

Link could only nod, and reach over to give Halim’s hand a comforting squeeze. When the king went to address his people and argue with his general and commanders, Link went with him. 

~~~~~~

All happened as Halim had decreed. 

After a bit of grumbling, and fumbling for laundry and spear polish, the Gerudo party that was assembled dressed and prepared to enter the city. Utilitarian armor and weapons were etched and decorated to seem more ceremonial than cautionary, and Halim remained the least armored of all of them; instead he exchanged his traveling garb for more intricate and passable finery, and re-adorned his braids with the full regalia of a king. 

Link tried to get the sewer gunk off his shoes, at least, and cleaned off and de-stunk his clothes well enough. Though, by the time the morning came and passed, he’d added new earrings to his ears; engagement jewelry, Halim had blushed, that had been intended for after things had been settled. However, the Gerudo king couldn’t figure a reason to hide the gifts further. He stowed Epona outside the city gate when the time came, and his sword, as he had the day before, and joined the desert procession. 

It was doubtful that Castletown had ever been so quiet than it was when the Gerudo showed their faces. Gold glistened as material sunlight off the armor and the woven banners and the boar saddles. Rova insisted on leading the party a little in front of Halim, her staff raised high as the beacon upon which most eyes were first transfixed. Halim was next, proud and broad and gravely serious as he looked ahead; Link was less than a step behind him to his left, attempting to be unnoticed in how he let his gaze track, as though he were aware a pack of wolves were following him towards the same deer; Nabooru was to her king’s right, helmet face raised and as stern as he was; behind and flanking them were a few of the other soldiers, two atop boar, shimmering and determined in their pursuit, hair red and flowing like a fire up through the city center and towards the castle gates. 

A woman met them there, the hylian guards standing hesitantly away from her sides - a graceful Sheikah in garb that also seemed more ceremonial and traditional than the sickle at her side would tell for her every day. Detailed, swirling tattoos wound up her arms not unlike those that resided under Maz Koshia’s scars. Her silver hair was delicately braided and her red facepaint matched her vibrant, knowing, eyes. 

Those eyes met Link’s and for a brief moment she gave the private nod of any village auntie, before looking past Rova’s glare and meeting Halim’s gaze directly. 

“Welcome,” She said, her voice as serene and untrusted as a river’s overcurrent, “I am Impa, I hope your journey has found you well.” 

“You’ve been expecting us.” Halim stated. 

“Yes. If you’ll follow me - you’re awaited in the throne room.” She nodded politely, and stepped a bit to the side while she motioned for the gates to be opened. 

The boar were left outside, snuffling suspiciously at the guards beside them and rough stone under their hooves, and Impa led them through the grand hall of Hyrule castle. It was resplendent in its beauty; soft rugs and high hanging tapestries of painted silk and embroidered linen, lovingly etched histories into the walls, colored light filtered through stained glass high above them. Altogether, one could easily see it as a fabulous palace rather than a building originally constructed a fortress of war. 

Link’s eyes wandered far from his determined companions’ path, tracing the etchings on the walls to follow the land’s past, catching on shafts of warm light and winding around columns and mezzanines. He nearly bumped into Halim when the group came to a stop, his gaze finally drawn to join the others. Immediately they met sharp, sea-green eyes and braided hair, though now they paired with jewels and soft flowing skirts. He inhaled, perhaps a bit too sharply, and nearly tapped Halim’s arm to tell him--

“Where is Hyrule?” Rova said first, clearly displeased at the sight of the young noble Sheik instead of the king, as stately as they appeared. 

“I am here,” They said, their voice clear and strong as it bounced off the walls of the throne room. They met Rova’s eyes, then Halim’s, unabated. “Sovereign Heir of Hyrule, Right Hand of its King. I am Zelda, and I summoned you.”

Only Impa seemed to notice how Link’s mouth hung open. From where she’d taken her place beside Zelda she got his attention again, and once more gave a telling look like any auntie he’d ever met -  _ Say nothing. _

Link closed his mouth, and straightened his spine. 

“The Right Hand is Hyrule enough.” Halim said, and stepped past Rova. Though he held no visible anger, he stood as strong and tall as a mountain, his voice held the gravity to pull down lesser men. “I am Ganondorf Halim Dragmire, King of the Gerudo and Chief of the Sands. I have grave business with you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( if i could add the pikachu meme here, because it makes me laugh, i probably would. )


	7. Grave Business

“Come on then - if you don’t guard both sides, you’ll end up half a warrior!”   
Link fell into the dust with an ‘Oof!’, the eightfold blade scattering away from him, “That’s-- a terrible joke.”    
“It’s fitting!” His cousin barked a laugh, the beads woven into his braids tinkling against one another while he retrieved the dropped sword.    
“Keep going. Get up.” Maz Koshia looked to him, from where he idled against the field’s fence watching the spar. “Practice - it’ll get easier. By the time it counts, it’ll be intuitive.”    
His hands, no more than 12 years old, were far too small to hold the blade properly. All the same, Link coughed and stood up again. He wasn’t one to whine, but he did give the old man an incredulous sort of look, “Uncle, we’re  _ farmers _ .”    
“When it counts, it’ll be intuitive.” Was all Maz repeated. “Practice.”    
Link was only brought back to attention with the hilt of his cousin’s sword hitting him in the back. 

~~~~~~

His uncle had been wrong. 

When it counted, things were different. Clunky, and panicked, and desperately aware of the idea that the person on the end of the other weapon intended him to die. 

He lost his breath when his back hit the wall, his ears ringing from clashing metal and angry shouts - he grabbed the nearest object he could feel and caught the guard’s sword before it could slash across his throat. It was a candleholder, bending immediately in pathetic fashion with its heavy golden mold (the Hylians never did quite figure out how to work with it right, like the Gerudo) but that was all he needed to duck under the guard’s arms and weave away. 

Things had been going… well, for all Link could tell. The meeting room Zelda had brought them into - Halim, Rova, Nabooru, and himself - was large even if only a fraction of the throne’s hall, and ornate, and full of light from the towering windows. Impa had remained by the door after closing the soldiers out, and Zelda and Halim had spoken at length over the map they’d laid out on the grand table. Halim spoke as eloquently as expected of a King - he was forthright with the Gerudo’s long-kept grievances with Hyrule, and assertive with his plans for an equitable future for the tribes at large. Zelda listened and made notes, graceful and noble, but was not shy in debating the Gerudo King over the feasibility of his plans. Link understood quite a bit of what was said, but felt there was little hope for him having a nuanced understanding of their discussion after about an hour of jargon had passed. 

To him, Hyrule was stable and prosperous - but seemed fragile in its equilibrium. Hylian villagers he knew were hesitant of any change, and tribes such as the Zora and the Gorons seemed liable to cling to their established niches instead of risk too much conflict. Halim’s plans made sense, and he had faith that they would work, but the sometimes drastic changes he proposed would risk the status of the broader country; he wanted the acquisition of farmland for the desert tribes, similar mineral trade agreements to the Goron mines, the desert river open for Zora fishing trade and transportation to the broader country, more accessible market outposts, a drastic decrease in Hylian patrols through the sands in favor of Gerudo sovereignty, and other suggestions to such effects. They were risks with great potential rewards, but the Crown seemed hesitant to consider such action. 

Unfortunately, other actions came far too easily. 

Link was jolted out of his reverie when, about two hours into the meeting, the door to the hall was busted in by a battalion of Hylian guards.    
“Protect the Crown, dispatch the intruders!” The captain barked, as his underlings swarmed past him and flooded into the room in a cacophony of steel. 

“Idiots!” Zelda stood abruptly and snarled, “Halt, halt! Stop this foolishness immediately, there’s no--!”    
However, they were ignored and surrounded until the captain advanced and grabbed hold of their arm, all but dragging them out the door as they shouted orders unheeded. Impa chased after the captain, Nabooru scrambled to obtain a sword from one of the guards that lunged at her, and Halim guarded Rova as he was left with little else but to throw punches. 

By then, Link was dealing with ringing ears and a bent candlestick. After he wove away from the guard that had attacked him, he tried to work his way back towards Halim’s side.    
“We’re not on the ground level - we have to get to the door!” He called over the clamor, ducking under a swinging spear. 

“We need to rendezvous with the rest of our people, if they aren’t already dead--” Nabooru grunted as she finally claimed a sword, knocking the disarmed guard over the helmet with its hilt. “-- This is a disaster!” 

“Pass judgements on the meeting _ later _ .” Halim snarled in reply. He sent a guard flying across the table and into the opposite wall, and the cornered party began pushing their way towards the hall. 

It was curious, Link noted in passing - so many strange things that last few days, and now another. 

Halim’s fists seemed as though they were holding purple embers, how the flames swirled and glowed around his forearms, climbing up from his palms. As unfortunate as it was curious, Link didn’t have the time to ask about it through the fighting. 

Even with Rova and Nabooru’s expertise, Halim’s sheer strength and strange beginnings of magic, and Link - well, doing his best, by the time the group made their way into the throne room once more they were surrounded and exhausted. Link had discarded the candlestick in favor of grabbing a shield from an unconscious soldier; that at least he was more comfortable using, keeping behind the others and blocking projectiles and blows as they progressed. Visible past the seemingly endless stream of soldiers, if one looked towards the main entrance, the other Gerudo had regained their boar and were proving their ceremonial weapons weren’t so decorative after all. Nabooru and Rova flanked their king and were quickly embroiled in fighting multiple opponents of their own off to either side, leaving Halim and Link fighting and defending back to back, in the center of the room. 

Rather, the best that they could. 

Link fought to gain a solid breath, too, as he fended off another volley of blows. He felt Halim jolt and grunt in pain behind him, likely hit by something, and he tried to glance to see if he was alright.    
“Halim, are you hurt-?”

“ **_HYRULE…!_ ** ” 

Yet another strange thing, Link supposed, that Halim’s voice sounded so much… older, as though a thousand shouts of war had passed through his throat. 

Presumably it was Hyrule standing there, near the throne, when Link finally got a look - not Zelda, but the King. That is, that’s what Link presumed past the bright light of the magic held aloft in his palm. 

And still, again, his view of the golden light quickly approaching was cut short by an outburst of black and purple flame that rose to meet in. With a transcending roar the two collided, and it was all Link could do to raise the shield and grab hold of Halim. 

In the next moment he could register, Link felt stone crumble beneath his feet. 

He smelled blood on Halim’s tunic. 

He felt heat sting his hands, and the tips of his ears. 

He saw, in a blink, the light of the throne room above him and fleeing further away, as he and the Gerudo King were approached by the deep and encompassing darkness below. 

_ How strange. _

~~

For an instant, when he woke, Link thought he was back in the barn loft. Head settled against Halim’s chest, listening to his slow breathing, early morning darkness, dust…

… Rubble. 

He didn’t want to think of how long he’d been out, or how far they had fallen for how truly small the spot of light above him seemed. Neither did he want to think of what horrors he’d fallen into now, so far below the heart of Hyrule. 

Upon another look at Halim - the spikes of his crown were bent and tangled into his hair, freed with a little work despite Link’s trembling fingers. He’d been glanced by one of the Hylians’ swords, at his side, but it seemed shallow past layers of fabric and woven gold. He was scratched up and dusty from the fallen rock and marble around them, but his breathing was present and didn’t seem labored. By magic, or some divine luck, if such a thing could exist, they were relatively unharmed. 

Past his aching body and his dusty cough, Link prayed their friends could boast the same. 

Oh, spirits. Their friends. 

“Gods…” Link rasped, and buried his face in Halim’s shoulder, “Gods, it’s true, isn’t it? Hyrule is where things go to die.” Though he was sure Halim wouldn’t hear him, his shaky voice or feel his clinging fingers, Link felt his lover's warmth was a safe place to waver. 

He waited, like that, but for how long he couldn’t say. 

Waiting. 

Listening to Halim breathe. 

To the distant dribble of a shattered pipe. 

A crumble of a rock. 

He expected bootsteps, and shouting, but neither came. 

Somehow, he found that a little worse. 

When his breathing finally matched Halim’s sleeping calm, he rubbed the dust and despair from his face and sat up again on his knees. He dug his clean handkerchief out of his inner shirt pocket, cleaned Halim’s wound best he could and secured the cloth into his belts to try and stem further debris from entering. Standing, a bit shaky for a moment, he searched through the blocks around him and regained the shield he’d been using before; the crested equipment may hold irony, but it also held iron. With the shield strapped securely to his back, he knelt again and pulled Halim to sit up a little. 

“You have to wake up now,” He murmured into his lover’s ear. “Please, Halim - we need… we need to get out of here. Somehow. I need you to walk, I can’t leave you.” 

~~~~~~

“You said you would help me.” 

**“I kept such a word.”**

“You should keep your temper!” 

Halim stood in a foggy sort of place. An oasis, he’d think, or his city in an early morning where mist trailed along the aqueducts. The only thing he saw in focus, even mostly, was the shadow. 

**“I kept my word.”** The shadow repeated.  **“They attacked you, boy. It was a trap - I controlled the situation.”**

“My mind - you controlled my _ mind _ .” Halim snarled. “I accepted power, or support, or magic - I didn’t give you leave to make me a puppet.” 

At that, the shadow barked a harsh laugh.  **“You think you know how to wield this without my intervention? You wish to hold divine Power unfettered, untrained?”**

The shadow turned on its heel and outstretched a hand, and the black flame again burst from Halim’s arms. Though he did not hear his own scream, in a blink he was clutching his arms to himself in agony, knelt against the sudden and overwhelming sensation. 

**“How pompous you are. Unable to withstand even a taste of my might, without soothing.”** The shadow’s voice cut through the haze pain created.  **“Shall I forgive such foolishness?”**

“ _ Please _ \--” Halim gasped, and heard nothing else until the ambush to his nerves subsided. By the time he collected himself, the figure loomed barely a foot from him. While he chased his breath, the shadow considered him in what felt like some form of mild amusement. 

**“... For now.”** It assented.  **“Get up. A king does not kneel.”**

Though he may have otherwise begged to differ, Halim regained his footing and faced the shadow, if more unkempt than he began. 

**“Observe closely. Do you hear?”** The shadow idled, after considering him a moment longer.  **“I protected your lover as well, I shall accept your gratitude. Listen - he is alone in the darkness, under Hyrule Castle, while you attempt to argue with me.”**

“I--” Halim began, then hushed. A faint tremor of a breath near his ear, a familiar ghost of warmth clinging to his chest. “I do.” 

**“Then go. There is no time to waste, you shall hear me later. After all, boy, there is now no excusing it. Now, you are at war.”**

_ “You have to wake up now.” _ Link’s voice was both an alarm and comfort. 

Halim listened. 

~~~~~~

More waiting, but not long before Halim stirred. Tired, heavy arms wound around Link and held him close. 

“How many times, I wonder,” He softly graveled, puffing dust out of Link’s hair. “- will I apologize to you, before this is done.” 

“ _ I’m _ sorry,” Link refuted, resting his head once more into the crook of Halim’s neck. “I should have agreed with Nabooru, we should have… done something else.” 

Halim hummed a disagreement. “There was nothing else.” 

Though he looked a bit mournfully at the remains of his more ceremonial crown, Halim tucked it away and attempted to ignore the ache in his head, and Link helped him stand. Halim pondered that they may have been even further below the modern sewer system, which Link thought over with due bewilderment, but all the same the two picked their way around the debris and ventured further into the catacombs. 

Unlike the modern sewer and dungeons, there was no trace of light or evidence that any torch along the walls had been lit in years. With little to no ambient light it was difficult even for eyes accustomed to early morning work to see, but the two eventually managed to take a torch from the wall and light it with the help of a rock and the dagger from Link’s boot. 

What waited for them to comprehend, they realized, was a tomb. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been quite awhile, but i'm not dead! just in college! ahah!!!! help!!!!!! it's fine!!!!!!!! i'm very stressed!!!!!!  
> anyway, i'm glad to get back to this - i wasn't quite sure where this chapter should end and the next should begin, but i'm not yet finished with the next bit and got impatient. so, here this is.  
> thanks again for your patience and for reading along!


	8. Six Feet Under

With one hand holding Halim’s and the torch in the other, Link beheld the statues that lined the tunnel around them. A couple had crumbled and fallen in the rest of the wreckage from the throne room - what seemed like had once been towering dragons, with elegantly carved scales and sharp tusks, grand beasts of ancient legend, lay in pieces. Further from the hole the fall had created, the hall was flanked by other creatures; great lizards and fish, an otherworldly goat, hawk, monkey, and snake. All magnificent in their ways, all stretched high to the rounded etched ceiling as they heralded the way forward. 

“A bit funny, isn’t it.” Halim wondered, though some part of his voice rang hollow. “We’ve now seen more of this city’s secrets than most of its locals.” 

“I didn’t think Hylians to be so fond of underground structures.” Link nodded along. 

Something of Halim’s palm felt… sharply warmer, like an ember that threatened to burn him, but Link would speak on it later. In the moment, he watched the parade of beasts as they gave way to more humanoid figures. Stately Gorons, sapphire studded Zora, resplendent Rito, gold-trimmed Gerudo, and winged figures that Link presumed to be fairies. No Sheikah, though Link was not particularly surprised. 

Lastly the cavern’s tiles and etching seemed to become even more intricate than before, and swirling patterns led to the feet of different giants. Hylians now, all of grand and champion stature, adorned with crowns and holy crests along their hems. Women and men of great nobility and magic, Link thought, and at the feet of each one was a name and epitaph of legacy - all of them were Hyrule, in their way.

There at the end of the hall, the tiles coalesced into a mural. Depicted were many of the statued beasts, accompanied in their illustrated tales by what could be presumed as the Hero of Legend - at least, the triangle on the figure’s hand consistently and the resemblance to the dungeon monument from before convinced Link as much. 

The pair paused at the dead end, though Link did not look away from the mural to search for some other way forward. 

Halim grit his teeth against his own headache, though his lover did not see. “This isn’t quite the time, Moonlight,” He said, “We need to keep moving.” 

“That’s true… It’s just, we  _ are _ the only ones who’ve seen it.” Link murmured in reply. He kept his hold on Halim’s hand, but passed off the torch to him in favor of freeing his other. Brushing his fingers lightly along the mural, he was enraptured by the blue and golden etchings. The way that his skin ran across the tile, it was almost as if the wall was singing to him. He barely noticed the heat in his palm increase again.

Maybe he’d hit his head too hard, in the fall. 

Still, he wondered what kind of person, people, the Hero was. What kind of world they’d wanted to build. Would the legend have attacked the Gerudo in such a way, would Hyrule’s reaction seem as strange to them as it did to him…? 

_ Listen… Link… Link…  _

_ Listen… _

_ Link...  _

“Link.” Halim repeated, just a little more firmly than before. “The others.” 

Link redacted his hand nearly as if the mural had burned him (... had it…?) and stepped back. “...Right. I’m sorry. Let’s check the other way.” 

If either young man had been looking, they may have spied the jade flecks within the eyes of the heroes begin to glow. They may have noticed the humming from Link’s fingers continue after he’d stepped back to turn away. 

They did, instead, notice when a split along the center - previously presumed to be grout between the illustrative tiles - widened. The ground rumbled as the mural parted, to reveal a tunnel with stairs leading down into the darkness. 

“Oh, gods…” Halim let out a breath when they paused and looked back towards the new opening, his voice a little strained. “I swear, here and now, even my grave will be on a mountain top - I am  _ never _ going below ground again.” 

“I don’t want to think about your grave,” Link winced, but still returned to the dais from which they viewed the mural and gently led Halim along with him. “Let’s keep going.” 

“Further down is not the direction we need.” 

The two were about to go back and forth on the matter, but a crash further down the hall from the direction they’d come settled the argument quickly. In a pace far faster than their stroll through a vein of Hyrule’s lost memory, they descended. 

~~~~~

Sheik cursed sharply and jumped back, when the Water Dragon’s statue fell and shattered before them. Their attempt to maneuver a block of debris from their path had failed, and now the final dragon had joined its brothers. 

“Fine.  _ Fine _ , have it your way.” They hissed to the dragon in frustrated accusation, and tugged their grappling hook free from their belt. “May your pieces be porous, you sonofabitch.” 

A piece of mangled golden armour had been the only thing they’d found in the rubble. Their mother had promised to help the Gerudo escape the city when she freed them from their room - in the meantime, Sheik had gone down all manner of servant’s stairs and dangerously unstable ledges to find what had become of Link, and the Demon King.

Surely this had been where they’d fallen - they doubted an injured Link could carry the Gerudo, where it would’ve been a simple task for his other, so Ganondorf was at least alive. 

What Impa had told them about the throne room; magic that had been carefully buried and aggressively forgotten by the tribes of Hyrule now lived tumultuously in the Gerudo King’s blood. Their father had been foolish to trigger such a spike of the dark power, foolish to provoke the demon to rise - but now even Courage was unwittingly in its clutches. He had to be saved, he had to be  _ safe.  _

With a bit of grunting and elbow grease they were able to scale the fallen statue and jump down to the other side. They squinted into the darkness as they regained their hook. 

“Ugh -- let me see.” They commanded. At once, the eyes of the statues lining the corridor began to admit a soft blue light, bringin faint relief to the enveloping blackness. Still, Sheik grimaced upon passing a Queen, “And don’t look at me like that. This is your fault.” 

It was. All of Hyrule and its calamities, each and every one, were centuries in the making. 

Sheik took a breath to settle their bitter nerves, and ran. 

~~~~~

Hours and minutes seemed an interchangeable eternity while Halim and Link stumbled and ran through the darkness. The torch remained lit, but the old wood was beginning to falter the longer they went. They slowed every once in a while to catch their breath, but inevitably set off again anywhere from a trot to a run. Down and winding, down and up and winding, up and winding and down again - Halim was half sure they were both going insane, and grumbled as much. 

Link insisted that there must be a way out - eventually, certainly, the path would come to an end. Every few stops he would see a flash of green in the distance and run ahead again, sure that it was some view of the outside. Every time he was wrong, but he would be a fool every time but once; that was all he needed. 

By the time they did reach the end, however, it was to the night. Link slowed, stumbled, and finally collapsed to his hands and knees onto soft grass. 

“We-- must be out of the city by now.” He gasped. Halim had remained standing, but Link only had to listen to his breath and feet to know he was pacing down, discarding the torch back in the tunnel - and to know how he turned to look around them, while Link’s eyes were still glued to the ground. 

“Very much.” Halim said finally. “S… South. We’re South of the city - they hold ceremonies in this forest. Must be - some sort of old emergency escape for the royalty, that we went through.”

“Well…. At least we escaped from it as well.” Link breathed, and after a few more moments sat back on his haunches. Now that he was in less pain, he could take account of his surroundings. It was indeed a forest, if smaller, and outside of the city; past the entangled treetops, he could see a hint of the castle looming in the distance. The clearing they’d come out into had a dais of its own, made of stone and engraved in heraldry, surrounded by a small stream. The place was at least peaceful and quiet, save for cicadas elsewhere, like a temple itself out under the moon. Something about it urged Link to feel reverent - not particularly for Hylian religion, but out of respect for an obviously powerful sort of place. 

Halim scuffed his boot on one of the engravings, knocking mud off of his sole and snarling towards the castle. How he stood there, towering and facing away from him, fists clenched at his sides in bitter anger and twisted crown on his belt - he was the bruised and smudged portrait of a scorned king at rage. Though, Link supposed his quiet was the most unsettling thing; his quiet, and the purplish aura that began to swirl around his fist again. 

Link stared at him like that for moments, minutes, he didn’t know - he could practically see the gears turning in Halim’s head. His fear, his anger, the weight of where they were and what had happened clearing and flooding into his mind as a storm. It panged his heart, deep, and any relief of once again being outside left him. 

“Halim.” He tested, not hesitant but gentle, “We should go back to the camp next, shouldn’t we? Maybe the others managed to return.” 

Upon that, Halim deflated somewhat, and turned to look at him. As angry as his posture had been, his face was mostly a testament to an aching heart. There were no tears and no shake to his voice, but the furrow to his brow and the set to his mouth was mournful. 

“Even if they did not…. We need to move. We - can’t go back for them.” The last part was near a whisper. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Link went over and embraced him. Sweat and dirt had never bothered him against such a thing. “They’re capable, all of them. The king was distracted with us - they had a chance.” 

Halim could tell that he was trying to convince himself too, surely, but sluggishly settled his arms about him anyway. There was a stew of all Halim wanted to say, but all he managed was a quiet huff and a grunt, resting his head against his lover’s. Battle plans that he and Rova had made, contingencies on gathering alliances across the tribes, sending word back to the desert, ensuring his youngest sisters and now his fiance could be safe-- it was too much to talk about all at once, and he was still trying to parse speaking his next move into existence. 

“Death Mountain.” 

Link peered up at him, “... What?” 

“The Goron Tribe. Death Mountain is our next move.” Halim shut his eyes firmly; when they opened, his expression was resolved. “We go back to camp and collect who we can - then we cut off Hyrule from their raw material supply. Once we have the Gorons on our side, the Zora will follow. It will be…. Quick.” 

It was Link’s turn to look mournful, but he only let it last a moment. “Then… Let’s go.” 

Not looking back at the tunnel, or at any green flashes he saw in the trees, was difficult - but all the same Link left them behind, as he worked to keep up with the marching pace Halim set. 

~~~~~~

Sheik stumbled in the end, falling to their knees with heavy pants as they finally,  _ finally _ exited the underground passage to the sacred grove. 

“Where…” They breathed, letting their eyes adjust to the night only briefly, “... Link….  _ Link _ \- are you here?” 

Nothing. 

Only a green flash, and a spirit flitting off into the night. 

They watched it go, then unceremoniously flopped to their side before rolling onto their back, glaring up through the trees and detesting the sweat on their brow and the pain in their rib. Eventually they reached to their belt pouch and pulled out a small flask, taking a swig. It didn't help anything, but the sour taste at least gave them something else to be angry with.

“Well…  _ Fuck _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been awhile! Back at this though, and happy to hear from you all on here, Tumblr, however you please!   
> This one's kind of short, but only because I figured the next part would be too big of a jump - thank you all for your patience!


	9. Entrance and Collection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nabooru and Rova are led to refuge in a church - they aren't the only ones.

It was only out of respect that Nabooru had not mentioned the thing. At least, that’s what she’d told herself - respect for the ancestors, respect for the old mysticisms to which it was probably linked, respect for her king. 

In reality, staring as the shadow had erupted from behind Halim like a phantom of rage and malice, twisted magic enveloping his arm before it shot out - she knew it was not out of respect she had not mentioned it. Rather, it was terror. 

By any sands, what darkness had haunted Halim all this time? Did he know it was there? Was that the form the ancestors’ wisdom was supposed to take, or was it some demon from a mishandled ritual? 

Worse still, Nabooru had observed her sisters and companions; she was certain she was one of few, if any others, able to comprehend it. 

All combat had stilled on both sides in favor of rushing to solid ground, when the stone collapsed. In a blinding clash of magic and an unworldly roar, both Halim and Link had fallen into the abyssal darkness of the castle’s depths. 

It was only when Rova clapped a hand over her mouth that Nabooru realized the scream she’d emitted, anguished and horrified for all her stature of a captain and fierceness of a warrior. The old general dragged her to the side out of the chaos, abandoning their battle as the Hylian guards rushed to the side of their king - blasted back by the burst of magic, now unconscious where he’d fallen. 

“Go now, you fool!” Rova hissed, a death-grip on Nabooru’s arm as she dragged her into a run towards the door. 

Were it not the general was even stronger than she looked, Nabooru would have succeeded in pulling her arm free. “Halim is--!”

“His Majesty remains alive!” When next she registered, Nabooru was being shoved out of the entrance to the grand hall and spurred to run. The corridors and courtyards of the palace were a frenzy of guards in combat or rushing towards the catastrophic sound she and Rova now fled. She imagined, vaguely, that surely other parts of the place would be knocked asunder for such a blow to its foundations, though she knew not how deep the chasm would go. 

Halim had fallen off of the aqueducts that spanned the Gerudo city’s rooftops when they were around sixteen - slipped on slick stone, landed on his back but had been fine after his breath returned. He’d always been sturdy, if softhearted; he never found the game Nabooru made of it funny, seeing how fast she could run along the ducts before she slipped and slid. When she twisted her ankle and subsequently was banned from such play, he’d seemed as mournful as if she’d need her leg amputated entirely. 

At thirteen, in his attempt to break a neighbor’s stallion, Link had been bucked and sent flying into debris from a recently mended fence - he’d been knocked out entirely, his uncle had refused to let him leave the one proper bed in their home for three days. At the time Nabooru had teased him, but his uncle gained two new wrinkles along his worried face in that short time. Halim had a nightmare about Link’s broken skull staining the horse’s hooves, and could not be convinced to go out of sight from him for the rest of their time in the village. 

So much rock set loose by the blast, the knowledge from Link that the entirety of the city was built over all manner of catacomb; all Nabooru could envision was the two of them, broken to pieces at the end of their plummet and flattened by slabs of Hylian-hewn stone. Like bugs. 

Like nothing. 

Perhaps such vivid thoughts were what Halim dealt with so constantly, even before the cursed shadow had begun to pursue him. It took a warrior’s spirit that she didn’t stop to be sick - instead, she steeled herself to weave out of the castle grounds and escape into the street. 

The rest of their party, according to the absence of boars or presence, had already successfully escaped - they would need to return to camp quickly and regroup, and plan for any rescue efforts on Halim’s behalf. 

“We will return to camp,” Rova began echoing this thought, “Our people must-” 

Providence, or distraction, or dumb luck prevented the both of them from moving to kill the owner of the hands that grabbed them, covering their mouths and pulling them around a corner. Impa, consort of Hyrule and heir-mother, met the glares in solemn and solid manner. 

“Your rage and distrust is warranted, but mark me - this was never Zelda’s intent.” 

“Their intention is useless! The King of the Gerudo is-” 

Impa clapped her hand again over Nabooru’s mouth at the rebuke, her solemn moving to snarl, “You’re too far behind your company, you’ll be cut off by the Guard before you can catch sight of the city gates. You must come with me, remain out of sight until they’re otherwise engaged.” 

Rova could have had a harsher look only if the Goddess reached down to carve into her face. “What fools do you think we are; you think we’ll trust you now?” 

“I think,” Impa released Nabooru, but made a half-step to turn and lead them away, “I see fools that have no other choice.” 

Outside the view of the Guard, rushing around in a frenzy through the palace grounds and beginning to bleed outward, Impa led them through the twists and turns of Hyrule’s jeweled city. However the mania around them, there was a place of reprieve the lady seemed to have in mind in the upper west part of town. Clean and proper and at once small and neglected, near the bridge to the prison, appeared a temple of sorts. It was not bejeweled, parts a bit worse for wear from lack of attention (Nabooru guessed, in favor of the large temple on the other side of town) but the marble and stone construction was cool, calm, and most importantly unoccupied. The fading light of the day mingled with the sparse torches that lit the interior, and Impa closed the door behind their trio. 

“I shall return later and see you to the gates, once the city has calmed.” Impa said, after their journey of tense silence closed with the door. 

Nabooru had slowed her pace to an amble as she entered, looking in the soft light around the stone, glaring towards darker corners and what appeared to be hallways, “Why help us? Your king desires us dead.”

Hyrule may well have succeeded, though she did not betray how her stomach churned. 

When she turned, for an instant she saw Impa as more mournful than carefully neutral. “I have told you, this was… not the intention, for the meeting.” 

“I tell you now, woman,” Rova flicked drying blood off of the blade she held, its landing on the white floor of the temple stark in the torchlight. “If you return with guards at your heels, you shall leave with their pieces drawn behind you.” 

Rova brushed past Impa coldly, though the sheikah’s composure did not waver. With a gruff nod to Nabooru she took a seat on the tile floor, her back against the wall and the scimitar in hand, and closed her eyes to meditate. 

Nabooru was incredulous, but with Rova’s closed eyes and Impa’s prompt departure back into the city, she was left with no outlet for frustration. Her only acknowledging look came from the statue adorning the sanctuary’s altar, the Hylian goddess with hands outstretched in greeting and a composed smile to her lips. 

Nabooru could only snarl at such a face. 

~~~~~~~

Considerable effort was always needed to traverse the city unseen - considerably more when the city was under changing guard patrols or in some form of crisis. With the Guard seeking to comb the city for intruders and individuals out of place, Sheik found both situations combined and significantly more challenging to navigate.

Still somewhat sticky with sweat and moderately coated in grime and grass from their failed pursuit of the Demon King, it was only a further challenge that Sheik was in a less than amiable mood. Miserable really, against their efforts to focus.

On top of everything, their companion had encouraged their curling mood further. 

Thoroughly pissed off, thoroughly exhausted, and thoroughly exasperated, they pointedly did not look his way while they ducked around corners and climbed above rooftops and swerved in unnoticed passages. Otherwise, they would have been met with the form the green spirit took when he was not opening doors or trailing around in smaller bits in numerous places. 

He appeared Hylian past the soft ethereal aura that shone around him, revealing him to those of Sight. With the clues of light hair, pointed ears, and sea-blue eyes that glowed and pierced in a way that haunted (no doubt also their effect when he lived), his blood was no question. However, for his familiarity and interaction with the catacombs at Sheik’s side, he was not of the nobility - despite their intensity his eyes had a softness and boyishness to them, his skin was freckled and peppered with scars that clued to labor and battle both, his posture balanced between the assuredness in his movements and the humility of his manner, his nose was too round and his ears too long, his face just thin enough to have known hunger. 

To his companion, to the murals and statues that named his ilk, to unnoted histories and empty tombs, his name was only ‘Hero’. 

Part of Sheik’s spite was in looking away from him. They had never been able to hear his voice, and the signs of his hands and movements of his lips were lost on them without their glancing; he had no choice but to follow them, silent and evidently ignored. It was difficult to say whether he appeared older or younger than his companion, it seemed both even and slightly shifting from moment to moment, but the soft frown on his face currently portrayed more a hurt peer than a guiding spirit. 

Such a look - when Sheik finally glanced over their shoulder at him to check for possible pursuers, they grimaced. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Differing from their tone with the catacomb statue, this was more a plea. 

Hero’s mouth opened, but Sheik had already turned away. 

A grand temple, polished and gilded to glitter as a beacon both under the sun and moon, stood in the east-central part of the city - but it was the smaller sanctuary in the west, towards the quarry and prison bridge, that Sheik intended. Using back alleys and rooftops, as well as the remnants of the old royal passages that were sprinkled around the city, they achieved their goal of keeping out of sight as well as finding a place to rest. 

They needed to regroup where their mother had suggested, possibly craft a few messages to send through the Post, and form a new plan. It was now, after all, apparent that the palace could not be trusted as a base of operations. Not today. 

Finally, after slipping out of the wall and into the back shrine-chamber of the sanctuary, dark save for a few spare sconces and seeming empty of all but stone, Sheik closed the passage again and met Hero’s gaze. 

_ “If he was hurt, it wasn’t critical.” _ Hands and lips expressed, though Hero’s voice had never been more than a soft ghost of a chime, deep in the back of Sheik’s mind. __

“You saw what happened, you and I saw the same wreckage.” Sheik practically growled their reply, “If he’s alive, it’s with the beast - he’s in danger. He should be here, with us.”

Hero glanced around, then gestured broadly to the surroundings.  _ “You’re hiding in your own kingdom. Here is not better.” _

Whacking his hand out of its gesture succeeded, though touching him ran a conflict in Sheik’s perception, in seeing him clearly but feeling akin to their hand passing through water. 

“ _ Here  _ I could have an eye on him.  _ Here  _ I can prevent his incidental slaughter.” 

Hero’s head tilted slightly to the side,  _ “Like you did when he fell through the floor?”  _

He shrugged at the sharp glare he was given. Like a prowling creature he hopped onto a broken column, neglected in the untended sanctuary, and sat perched at a height unnatural for even one of the agile Sheik’s maneuvers to reach. Whether it was a form of minor taunt, or to remain out of the aggravated Sheik’s grasp, or out of want for a high place to sit was debatable. 

Sheik waved off his idling and paced in frustration, though after a few moments did turn their sharp look back up to his calm, waiting eyes. “You shouldn’t be here, then. You should have followed him with the whole of you.”

_ “He’s alright, for now. I’ll go when I’m needed.” _

“He needs you now!” 

Hero shook his head. 

“Don’t just do that - he’s at the mercy of that monster! Who knows what kind of magic will emerge in only the next-”

_ “He won’t listen, if I go now. For now he’s safe, and I don’t believe the Demon has noticed. I ask him to go along with you, he’ll refuse.” _

“How do you know?”

_ “I would say no, too.”  _

~~~~~~~

Nabooru was too restless, too addled, too angry. It could have been moments or hours she managed in her stubbornness to be still, glaring up at the statue of Hylia in the soft, warm golden light. Yet, in the end she spat, and began to pace the empty temple. Up and down corridors, around corners despite its relative small size, harshly scanning the darkness and focusing her ears past the sound of her own footsteps. 

“You shouldn’t be here, then. You should have followed him with the whole of you.”

Like icy water, the familiar voice washed over her and caused her to stop. 

“He needs you now!” 

Ducking behind the entrance to the back chamber, from where the hissing voice could be heard, Nabooru settled her breath. 

“Don’t just do that - he’s at the mercy of that monster! Who knows what kind of magic will emerge in only the next...” 

It tapered off, as if interrupted. Hazarding a look into the chamber without revealing her place, Nabooru’s suspicions were at once confirmed. 

The voice of the heir of Hyrule, the one she’d heard throughout the long meeting, also belonged to the acquaintance Link had made the day before. ‘Sheik’ they’d claimed - Zelda. 

Yet, tilting her head to see the figure perched above, she could not place their companion for any but… something unworldly, from his eyes to the aura about him. 

“How do you know?” He’d said something past Nabooru’s hearing, but Sheik’s strained reply betrayed their lacking notice. 

It took only a few more moments for Nabooru, aided by the sparse light and such distraction, to navigate the chamber and lunge. 

Sheik may have been a figure of agility and stubbornness, but caught flat-footed they could not hope to match Nabooru’s brute strength. Not long passed before the scuffle ended with Sheik pinned to the floor by Nabooru’s straddle, one of her hands pinning their shoulder forcibly against the stone and the other holding her blade to their throat. 

“A liar and traitor from many angles, are you?” Nabooru growled, her eyes more flame than the sconces could offer, “I wonder if severing the Hand of Hyrule could ever make up for my king’s fate, any of our suffering!”

“I don’t -” 

Nabooru caught the attempted change of inflection immediately, the last try to hide their voice and feign confusion, and pressed the tip of her blade against their jugular. Instead of a righteous shout, her voice chilled and lowered murderously. “Do not. Mock. Me.” 

Instead of twitching for a dagger or attempting to writhe free, Sheik locked their eyes on hers. Slowly, they raised their hands up beside them in surrender. 

“Your king, and Link, escaped the city.” They said, cautious and quiet, conscious of their breathing against the point. “They landed in the tunnel system below the palace, there are paths out from there. They weren’t pursued further.” 

Though there was barely any sound to his step, Nabooru looked up to find Sheik’s companion had approached. He had no weapon, nor did he seem about to intervene - if anything, any action he had intended to take was halted entirely when Nabooru acknowledged his presence. 

He gave her pause, as well. 

The ache she’d felt earlier in her chest, at the thought of Link, spiked again. 

“Can…” Sheik attempted after what must have been too long a halt between them, nearly jerking Nabooru back to attention, “Can you  _ see _ him….?” 

“What is that supposed to mean? Don’t try some trick, I won’t be fooled.” Nabooru spat, “Of course I can see him, he’s standing right there like some startled mutt!” 

His mouth gave no voice, but his lips were readable,  _ “Will you let us explain...?” _

“Explain what?” 

“How we got to this point,” Sheik continued cautiously, “All of us.” 

Nabooru returned her glower to Sheik, when they spoke. However, she did stand and allow them to sit up, though her blade remained ready. Her calculations, and conclusions, continued to turn in her head. 

“... I will not kill you, for now. You will give me your explanation.” Nabooru did not break her glare. “And you, and _ this _ \--” She pointed her blade, briefly, to the boy, “-- will tell me what the fuck that  _ THING _ is, that has been following my cousin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i try so hard to post this consistently, but we're not there yet folks. thank you for your patience - i spent the last few months graduating college in the pandemic and collapsing economy, it's been a bit rough for everyone. this wasn't edited even as the other chapters have been, my apologies if it's difficult to read, but next time will hopefully be more put together.   
> thank you all again, please feel free to drop a line on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> To Be Continued because I can't stand it anymore and had to actually work on the thing [I said I would in my art tag.](https://inkybirdy.tumblr.com/post/177287829243/link-in-the-city-some-pals)  
> also the formatting is weird because no i don't post things on this website that's ridiculous


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